


To Dance Between the Raindrops; A Snowflake's Waltz

by LadyJanus



Category: Sanctuary (TV), Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Gen, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-03-11 07:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 46,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13519785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanus/pseuds/LadyJanus
Summary: Sam and Cassie go Christmas shopping in New City ...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing in this Stargate SG-1/Sanctuary crossover story but my altered headspace. Stargate SG-1 belongs to Gekko Film Corp, MGM, Fox, various individuals and companies and whoever owns them. Sanctuary belongs to Damian Kindler, Amanda Tapping, Martin Wood, The Beedie Group, Tricon Films & Television, Space and whoever else owns bits and pieces of it.
> 
> Spoilers: For SG-1, to the end of series; for Sanctuary, up to the episode "Pavor Nocturnus" (Season 2, Episode 5). Everything after that is up for grabs.
> 
> Author's Note: I started this years ago on my LiveJournal and then ran out of steam. Got inspired and started writing it again, so I've decided to post it here. Will work on it until done.

The din of voices and Christmas carol _muzak_ grated on Colonel Samantha Carter’s ears as she tried to tune out the crowded mall. This was the main reason she hated shopping—especially dreaded Christmas shopping. A particularly egregious version of _White Christmas_ started and it seemed that the hobgoblin in charge of the PA system had cranked up the volume another couple of notches.

 

 _“It’s not even bloody Thanksgiving yet,”_ she grumbled in annoyance; that holiday was still almost a week away. She checked her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time and then glanced out the double doors to the rain-slicked parking lot, before turning her attention back to hustle and bustle of the mall.

 

Cassandra was supposed to meet her at this entrance ten minutes ago, but knowing the young woman, Sam resigned herself to waiting at least another ten.

 

New City’s Waterview Mall was not even the worst shopping plaza she’d been in that day, but with the cold November rain casting everything in a miasma of gloom, and her own anxiousness to get back to the hotel, she found her mood darkening with the sky.

 

She wished Janet had been able to come along, but the good doctor had used the convenient excuse of a symposium on viral genetics at New City University to bail on Cassie’s marathon-session of _“let’s make every retailer on the face of the planet happy!”_

 

She shook her head and tried to get back to a happier—or rather a less cynical—headspace.

 

Since Sam had been away in another galaxy as commander of the lost city of Atlantis for a year, and then commanding the _USS George Hammond_ —one of the newest spaceships in Earth’s small, but growing fleet—she and Cassandra hadn’t spent a lot of time together in the last couple of years.  Therefore, Cassie had been ecstatic that needed repairs and upgrades to the _Hammond_ after the Battle for Icarus Base had meant that her “unofficial” second mother would be able to spend some quality time with her.

 

And Sam was glad to spend the time with her twenty-two-year-old daughter, but fervently wished that it didn’t include crowded malls quite so often.

 

Earlier that day, she and Janet had accompanied the young woman to the University’s Medical School open house. It was one of the four schools that had offered Cassandra a spot when she graduated with her Master’s degree in Biochemistry from the University of Colorado in January, and one of their lead researchers was already interested in mentoring her in his lab.

 

Cassie had had her heart set for a long time on following her mother, Dr. Janet Fraiser, into medicine and the Air Force, but both Janet and Sam had insisted that she look at all her options before choosing such an irrevocable course.  There was so much out there and Cassie had shown a remarkable aptitude not only for the biosciences, but also math, and most recently, music.

 

The young woman had put off going to college for over a year when Janet had nearly died off world after being hit by the energy discharge from an enemy Jaffa’s staff weapon. Both Sam and Janet had tried to argue with Cassandra, but she’d inherited more than her share of stubbornness; she wouldn’t head off to school until she was sure her mother was through her physiotherapy and literally back on her feet.

 

And truth be told, Samantha was grateful to Cassie for her intransigence. Sam had contemplated taking a leave of absence from the Top Secret Stargate program, but Janet wouldn’t hear of it—not with the threat from the Goa’uld System Lord Anubis hanging over them at the time, ready to subjugate Earth … not with the threat from the Replicators, as the artificial intelligences tried to convert everything in the galaxy into more Replicators … not with the threat from the Ori and their need for entire _galaxies_ to worship them.

 

No, she hadn’t wanted to leave Janet at such a vulnerable time in her life, especially when their relationship had been so new, but circumstances hadn’t left her much choice; so yes, she was _grateful_ to their daughter for shouldering such responsibility at such a young age.

 

Sam glanced at her watch again, wishing that she hadn’t acquiesced to Cassie’s request to go off on her own to purchase both her mothers’ presents.

 

 _“You so owe me for this, Janet,”_ she muttered under her breath.

 

“And I’m sure Mom will be happy to make it up to you,” said a laughing voice from stairwell behind her. She turned to meet Cassie’s impish smile as the strawberry blonde descended the last couple of steps, both hands laden with bags.

 

“You, young lady, are late,” she groused good-naturedly.

 

“I know, I know,” Cassie laughed. “But not all of us are as organized as you are. I bet you were done your Christmas shopping by July.” Sam’s ready blush response gave her away and Cassie swatted her with a handful of bags. “I was just _joking_ —Gods, you’re unbelievable,” she complained.  “Just for that you can carry the really heavy ones.”

 

Sam chuckled as she took the bags from Cassie and ushered her out the door. The rain had let up quite a bit, but it was still coming down fairly steadily.

 

They dashed out into the cold, wet night, laughing as they raced across the parking lot to the rental car. By the time, they reached the late model silver sedan, and Sam had opened it using the remote, her hair was plastered to her head. Quickly opening the trunk, she and Cassie flung the shopping bags in, anxious to get to the dry warmth of the car.

 

Suddenly, she felt a sharp sting on the side of her neck. Crying out in surprise, her hand automatically went up to the injury and came away with a small dart and blood that quickly washed away with the rain.

 

 _Tranquiliser_ , her rapidly fogging mind told her and she reacted the only way she could.

 

 _“Cassie! Run!”_ she screamed, but it was too late; her daughter was already collapsing like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

 

As Sam tried to fight the effects of the tranquiliser long enough to get her gun out of her purse, black-clad bodies surrounded them. Someone yanked the purse out of her hand and she lunged at her attacker, desperate to get a few punches in before darkness claimed her.

 

 _“The old girl has still got some fight left in her,”_ a masculine voice sneered. _“Hit the bitch again!”_

 

Another dart hit Sam just above her right breast, and then she was falling through the deepest black of space.

 

From light years away, she heard another voice ask, _“What do you want to do with the car?”_

 

 _“Leave it,”_ the first man replied. _“Leave it all for Druitt and the rest of the Sanctuary’s freaks to find. They’ll know who it was. And who knows, maybe it will teach them_ not _to interfere in our business again.”_

 

#


	2. Chapter 2

Helen Magnus sat unseeing at her desk, oblivious to the passage of time and to the large tome lying open in front of her, which she was ostensibly supposed to be researching. 

 

 _She could be a statue_ , Will Zimmerman thought as he stood on the threshold studying her pale, still face—the play of shadows in the wan evening light gave her an otherworldly look. _Grieving Demeter ... unceasing sorrow etched into timeless, white marble ... a Mother’s sorrow for a beloved daughter stolen by Lord Hades_.

 

And there was nothing he could do to help her through her sorrow ... lessen her grief ... nothing anyone could do for her but give her time. And _time_ was the very thing Helen Magnus had entirely too much of; it stretched out before her like an endless road heading off into the horizon. And how long she would walk that road—always moving towards the horizon, but never reaching it—only God knew.

 

Will had never really considered what it was like to be effectively immortal. Unless someone or something ended her life, Helen could potentially live forever. She was already 159 years old and she’d just watched her only child die a few short weeks ago.

 

Ashley hadn’t even left behind the cold comfort of a body for Helen to mourn and bury. In her last act of sanity—her last-ditch effort to save her mother and salvage what little shred of humanity she still possessed—Ashley had immolated herself on the Sanctuary’s electromagnetic shield, spreading her atoms to the uncaring universe.

 

Will didn’t know which was worse; Helen had already buried two lifetimes worth of friends and lovers—and would undoubtedly bury many more as time passed.

 

But having no body to mourn, she had chased phantom after phantom in the desperate hope of finding her daughter alive ... come up with theory after theory—each more outlandish than the previous one—to explain how Ashley might have escaped death when she’d tried to teleport herself and another Cabal-created super soldier through the EM shield.

 

And after each theory had led nowhere, when every effort to find her daughter had failed, _Will_ had been the one to make her stop.

 

He had been the one to kill her hope, and now he wondered if he hadn’t also killed _her_.

 

He knew why she’d fled into the jungles of Central America—to find a fabled elixir of the Mayan Kings that would shorten her lifespan ... cure her longevity ... make her _mortal_ again.

 

Another failure.

 

Now he was very much afraid that—no matter her commitment to the Sanctuary Network and the preservation of the world’s Abnormals—it was only a matter of time before Helen would choose the only option that seemed open to her.

 

_Suicide._

 

She’d told him she hadn’t found the tomb that supposedly housed the elixir, but she’d returned strangely changed. He knew that she’d found something, but he also knew that if she didn’t want to speak about it, nothing he said would make her open up to him.

 

So, he watched her and waited.

 

A decidedly chill blast of wind blew rain in through the open window. Winter was coming.

 

#


	3. Chapter 3

_‘Wake up! Wake up, Cassandra!’_

 

Sam’s voice echoed in Cassie’s drug-fogged mind—whispering tantalisingly through the corridors of her consciousness.

 

“Hmm … Sam?” she mumbled.

 

 _‘Quiet Cassie, don’t speak aloud.’_ Cassie felt the urgency and barely banked terror radiating from Sam.

 

“Whaa …”

 

 _‘Be quiet! Please Cassie, pretend to still be asleep,’_ Sam’s voice pleaded in her head; Cassandra suddenly knew that all that fear was for her—that she would do something to alert their captors.

 

She rolled over on her stomach and tried to focus her thoughts, when all of a sudden it struck her; _in my head—Sam’s in my head._

 

_‘Yes, Cass—I’m in your head; so please remain calm. I promise I’ll explain everything. Just think what you need to say and I’ll hear you.’_

 

Cassandra fought to keep her breathing steady.

 

_‘What the hell is going on?’_

 

She felt Sam wince in sudden pain. _‘Not so loud! This is pretty new to me, sweetheart. What do you remember?’_

 

_‘We were going to the car … there were men—Sam, they shot us!’_

 

_‘Tranquiliser darts. Cassie, I want you to concentrate on your body—can you tell if they’ve done anything to you?’_

 

 _‘What do you mean?’_ Cassie asked trying to keep from panicking.

 

 _‘Cassandra, please concentrate,’_ Sam said insistently. _‘Can you tell if they’ve done anything—injected you with anything while you were out? It’s important.’_

 

Cassie forced herself to calm down and focus. Her arm ached where her subcutaneous tracking device had been implanted, but her grogginess was clearing and nothing else felt amiss.

 

_‘I think they’ve taken out my tracking device, but I don’t feel any needle pricks or anything else to suggest that they’ve done something—and my head is starting to clear.’_

 

 _‘Good … thank God.’_ Sam’s relief was palpable, which ramped up Cassie’s panic meter again.

 

_‘Sam, where are you? How are you able to do this? Whenever we’ve connected in the past, it’s always been me—and you were always harder to connect to than Mom. I’ve never had such a clear connection to anyone before.’_

 

_‘It looks like they’ve left you alone for now—but, let’s just say they’re having a grand old time with me.’_

 

 _‘What do you mean?’_ Cassie asked fearfully.

 

 _‘They’ve started experimenting on me—injected me with a test dose of something they call Source Blood,’_ she replied. _‘But I don’t think they’re getting the results they expected—in fact, they didn’t mean to kidnap us at all.’_

 

_‘What?’_

 

_‘They haven’t figured out yet that I’m getting glimpses their thoughts—but they were trying to capture a woman named Ellen or maybe Helen and they still think I’m her. From what I can tell, she’s apparently been injected with this stuff before. It’s all really jumbled. I can’t read them as well as I can you—it may be because we’re already so connected … oh Cassie, is this what it’s always like for you … I never imagined how terrifying this is …’_

 

 _‘I think that it’s the reason I’ve only been comfortable practicing with you and Mom … the freedom of it is terrifying. I’m afraid that it’ll become all too easy to just dip into people’s minds … become some kind of monster.’_ Cassie took a shuddering breath. _‘What are we going to do, Sam?’_

 

_‘What else can we do, Cass? We’re going fight—they expect me to turn into a violent, mindless killer like their other test subjects. They’re expecting to be able to control me—’_

 

Despite the gravity of the situation, Cassandra had to fight the urge to laugh. _‘They really don’t know who they’re dealing with, do they?’_

 

 _‘I guess not.’_ Sam’s dark amusement came through their link clearly. _‘But I need you to cast about now, sweetheart. The treatments are exhausting me, but I did glean that they have two of the earlier test subjects here. See if you can find where they’re located—but be careful, Cassie, I’m not sure what state their minds are in. Part of the treatment seems to be designed to quickly break my mind—my personality … I guess they couldn’t anticipate my training, previous experience with torture, or Jolinar’s little gifts. But they were successful in breaking the other subjects and brainwashing them. And they’re very_ proud _of the killers they’ve produced.’_

 

#


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Janet Fraiser was a woman who knew how to get results, on and off the battlefield of medicine. She’d stared down generals and megalomaniacal aliens who had thought they were gods—and no pissant little car rental clerk was going to stand in the way of getting the information she needed.

 

When Sam and Cassandra hadn’t returned from their shopping trip by the time she got back to the hotel at 6:00 pm, she hadn’t been worried about anything but Sam’s sanity at having to spend an afternoon being dragged from shop to shop. She’d simply crawled her aching body under the covers for a well-deserved nap after nearly four hours of mostly dry, droning presentations on viral DNA and the various mutations and permutations it was subject to.

 

Janet had always scoffed at the _Old Wives’ Tale_ of feeling the weather in an injury, but since her near death on an alien planet, P3X-666, from a stray energy blast, the damage to her ribs, abdomen and hip had proven her wrong—and with New City’s perpetually rainy climate, she’d felt achy and uncomfortable all day. Sam had done a lot with the Tok’ra healing device to mitigate the damage when she’d saved Janet’s life that day, but there were limits to what even she could do without damaging her own health.

 

She had only been slightly perturbed when she’d woken with a start to find that she had overslept and that it was nearly 8:15 pm. She, Sam and Cassie were supposed to go to dinner at around 7:30, so it had come as a bit of a surprise when she’d realised that they hadn’t yet returned.

 

Expecting them to return at any moment with Sam starving and raring to go, she’d hurriedly taken a shower. But when they still hadn’t returned or called by the time she was dressed, a tendril of worry tickled the back of her mind—while Cassie might lose herself shopping for hours, Samantha Carter would find that ten kinds of _hell_. Furthermore, Sam was nothing if not responsible—if they were running this late, she would have called.

 

After trying both their cell phones multiple times and receiving no answer—only voicemail—that tendril of worry had become a full-fledged Goa’uld snake coiled about the panic centres of her brain, to the point that she’d contemplated calling the local police department to report them missing. But reason prevailed and she knew that the police wouldn’t do anything just because they were almost two hours overdue. She didn’t even know which mall they were at, since Cassie had planned to hit as many of them as she could.

 

Therefore, after making the inevitable phone call she’d been dreading, she’d taken a taxi to the car rental place and asked the pimply clerk to trace the car’s GPS tracker.

 

And promptly ran into the brick wall of petty bureaucracy.

 

“Sorry lady, but we can’t give out that information,” the clerk said snottily and rudely turned his back on her.

 

“I see,” Janet replied in a deathly quiet tone as the boy went back to whatever it was on the computer that held his attention so fully. _Probably some damned useless video game_ , she thought angrily.

 

Still fuming, she reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone and her Air Force identification.

 

Flipping the phone open, she punched number three on the speed dial. “Hello, General O’Neill?” she said holding up her ID for the suddenly apprehensive teen. “Colonel Fraiser, sir. I’m at the rental company and they’re refusing to give me the location of the vehicle Colonel Carter rented.”

 

She listened to his tirade for a moment, and then held the phone out to the clerk. “General Jonathan O’Neill would like to speak to your manager. Now.”

 

The boy blinked owlishly once before backing up towards the office door with the frosted glass pane.  Fumbling with the door handle, he managed to push it open. “Mr. Charles,” he croaked. “There’s an army lady here—she says her general wants to talk to you.”

 

 _“What?”_ The disembodied voice was filled with disbelief.

 

“They want us to track one of our cars,” the clerk said as a pleasant-faced man about her age rushed from the office, knocking over something in his haste by the sound of it.

 

Janet almost gave into the inappropriate desire to laugh.

 

“How can I help you, Ma’am?” he asked glancing nervously at her ID.

 

She thrust her cell phone into his hand. “General Jonathan O’Neill wants to speak to you.”

 

She folded her arms across her chest and waited, listening to the manager’s side of the conversation, which consisted of “Yes sir”, “Right away, sir” and “Yes sir, General O’Neill, sir.”

 

He pushed the boy out of the way and accessed the computer. “GPS shows that it’s parked at the Waterview Mall, sir,” the manager continued. “It’s been there for the last five hours and forty-eight minutes, sir—it’s after nine o’clock, so the mall will be closed by now.” He listened for a moment and then replied, “Yes sir. It’s only about fifteen minutes away, sir. I’ll drive her out there myself.”

 

He handed Janet back the phone. “The general would like to speak to you again, ma’am,” he said anxiously, before pulling a rain-slicker from the back of a chair and some keys from the open cupboard just outside the office door.

 

“Janet, we’ll meet you at the mall within half an hour,” Jack said without preamble. “We haven’t been able to track them remotely, so chances are it’s probably those dickheads at the NID again or one of their associates who know about the implants.”

 

“Any idea why now?” Janet asked, forcing her panic down into her gut as she followed the rental agency manager out to a black, late model SUV.

 

“Nada one,” O’Neill replied. “Hailey is running a search on what assets they might have around here and if anyone has been unduly interested in Carter lately.”

 

Janet took a deep breath and ventured where she didn’t want to go. “Or maybe they were after Cassie?”

 

There was silence for a moment on O’Neill’s end, and then, “I won’t lie to you, Doc, it’s a distinct possibility,” he said soberly. “But let’s not go borrowing trouble before we need to—all I know is that we haven’t picked up even a whiff of chatter on her in five years.”

 

“But that doesn’t mean squat and you know it, Jack!” she shouted, losing the battle with her control for a moment.

 

“I know, Janet; I know,” he replied softly. “Look, the local FBI field office has been notified and will meet us there—they’ll run interference with the local cops. All they know is that an important government scientist has gone missing under suspicious circumstances together with her best friend’s daughter. Our teams will have priority on this one.”

 

#


	5. Chapter 5

Cassandra steadied her breathing and tried to steady her nerves. Casting about with her mind was not something she’d practiced very often—and when she had, it was only to locate her mothers or her honorary family from SG-1. Only on very rare occasions had she attempted to find her best friend, Jenna, or her roommate, Marie.

 

After speaking telepathically with Sam, she’d tried to connect with her mother—and generally, back in Colorado Springs she could find Janet over a radius of about five kilometres before their connection became too weak and flooded with other people’s minds. However, there were so many people in New City—she found that only the barest sense of her increasingly apprehensive mother came through over their link.

 

All of this also made her fearful of losing her connection to Sam in this place. Already, their bond felt stretched thin when Sam abruptly lost consciousness a few minutes ago after long minutes of excruciating pain.

 

 _Okay Cassie, suck it up—now is not the time to wimp out,_ she told herself firmly. _Sam is counting on you._

 

Taking another deep breath, she tentatively sent out a small tendril to touch the minds of those closest in proximity to her.

 

 _God, what the hell is this?_ The lab technician’s mind was a jumble of confusion and resentment over some tests he’d been asked to run by the hated lead researcher. _Fuck, that batch of Old Helen’s blood must have been contaminated with some weird organo-metalloid shit Head Bitch probably cooked up_ , he thought irritably. _Now I have to run the damned sequence again._

 

Cassie realised that the technician had just discovered the naquadah in Sam’s blood, but not knowing what it was, automatically assumed that the sample had been contaminated.

 

 _Score one for the good side!_ Hopefully, they would get caught up chasing their tails over it and give her and Sam time to get away. Somehow.

 

She sifted her way through the researchers and guards’ minds she could reach, touching gently on each for a few seconds before moving on.

 

 _I’m going to need some serious brain bleach when this is over,_ she thought as she slipped from one particularly sick guard’s mind. It was filled with thoughts of what he wanted to do with the _little blonde honey_ in the cell he was guarding.

 

At first Cassandra was afraid that it was one of her own guards. But only the fact that this young woman could tear him limb from limb with her claws had stopped him from going in and having his way with her.

 

Cautiously, she allowed her probe to extend further into the room and drew back reflexively in fear as overwhelming, primal emotions flooded her mind on a tidal wave of monstrous images—ravenous beasts baying in a cacophony of bloodlust, anger and pain.

 

 _Madness,_ Cassandra realised as she curled tightly into a foetal ball to prevent herself from crying out. _I’ve touched the mind of complete and utter madness._ _This is what Sam had meant; this_ abomination _is what our captors mean to turn Sam into._

 

And as she carefully pulled back into herself, she heard it—one tiny voice crying through the howling madness.

 

_‘Mommy ... Mommy, I’m afraid.’_

 

#


	6. Chapter 6

Firelight flickered in Helen Magnus’ study. Her tall, looming Sasquatch butler, as he straightened after stoking the fireplace, was made an even more frightening figure by the play of light and shadows on the walls.

 

“Eat something,” the low, rumbling voice commanded from among the flickering shadows.

 

Startled from her research, Helen looked up from the text of parasitic abnormal life forms she was currently reviewing. Her legal pad was full of longhand notes she’d made on how the next edition should be updated and which should be added to the Red List under dangerous parasites. She’d barely registered his entrance a few minutes ago and didn’t realise that he still lingered in the room.

 

An automatic protest that she wasn’t hungry rose to her lips.

 

“Eat,” he ordered again and she sighed; she knew how stubborn he could be, and she didn’t have the inclination or the energy to argue with him.

 

Rising from behind her desk, she made her way to the sitting area in front of the fire, and settled into one of the comfortable armchairs.

 

She accepted the cup of tea he handed to her. Although it no longer surprised her how gently those large hands handled the delicate china, she found that despite all the decades they’d been together, she’d never lost her awe of his subtle dexterity.

 

 “I am perfectly capable of deciding on my own when I’m in need of sustenance,” she scolded irritably as she sipped the tea. As always, it was strong, hot and bracing.

 

A hearty grunt, followed by two soft snorts, eloquently expressed exactly what her friend thought of that statement.

 

“I’ll return later for the dishes,” he said, padding noiselessly to the door. As he let himself out, his quiet injunction floated back to her. _“Eat.”_

 

Helen hated to be patronised ... to be ordered around like a recalcitrant child, and she hated it even more when _she_ was the cause of her employees’—and friends’—not so veiled amusement, or even worse, concern. But through her irritation, she recognised that it was her own fault; her own damned stubbornness was to blame.

 

She really should have stopped for supper hours ago, but stopping would have meant disengaging her brain from her research. And in doing so, her mind homed in on the only place it inevitably went these days.

 

 _Ashley_.

 

Helen’s hands shook as she returned the cup and saucer to the tea service. Pulling up her legs beneath her, she rested her head on the arm of the chair and curled her arms around herself as if to keep from flying apart.

 

For with thoughts of her beautiful daughter, came the inexorable flood of guilt and self-recrimination ... and that awful hollowed-out feeling that told her there was no use in continuing this endless life of hers. For it is no longer life, but rather empty existence, which holds her prisoner in the bonds of relentless gravity.

 

And it would be so easy to just let go of existence and simply float away.

 

#


	7. Chapter 7

Walking through the thick fog that swirled around her was like pushing through hanging veils that threatened to wrap her in their folds and smother her to death.

 

Cassandra walked like a blind person with her hands out in front of her, following the child’s desolate sobbing. She winced as her right hand banged against the wrought iron gate. A large, dark edifice loomed up behind the gates, a gothic castle in the middle of a surreal landscape.

 

 _A castle_ , she thought apprehensively, _of course it would have to be a gothic castle straight out of those fairy tales Mom used to read to me when I first came to Earth_.

 

The little girl’s cries came again, over and over, crying for her Mommy. Suddenly, Cassie was inside the gates. The grass rippled weirdly beneath her feet; there was no wind.

 

 _Is this my dream or hers?_ she wondered distantly as her feet took her across the drawbridge to the front door of the castle. She lifted the knocker suspended from nose of the massive, hairy head carved from bronze and mounted on the door. It opened its eyes, burning with yellow fire, and startled her into letting the knocker go.

 

A great clang sounded; the head opened its mouth and roared. Frightened, Cassie stepped back involuntarily, and one disorienting moment later, she found herself in a great courtyard inside the castle walls. A few metres away, a dark figure knelt hunched over on the flagstones.

 

The scent of dank soil and rotted meat assailed her, and with it the iron tang of blood suspended on the fog. Soft, wet, sucking noises filled her mind—and then the whimpered cries of, _“Mommy? Mommy, where are you? It hurts, Mommy; it hurts.”_

 

A small white arm fell bonelessly into view from beneath the crouched figure. Cassie gasped in shock, attracting the creature’s attention. Red eyes burned in a pale, monstrous face framed by razor-sharp horizontal bangs and long, blonde hair; white fangs dripped red as it screamed a banshee’s wail.

 

 _Vampire!_ Cassie thought hysterically as the creature rose up. _Definitely not my dream_.

 

A small, pale body lay splayed obscenely on the ground; blood soaked the front of her white dress. A halo of white-blonde hair framed an innocent, bloodless face.

 

The vampire moved towards Cassie with a fluid dancer’s grace, golden hair floating behind her although there was no wind.

 

Suddenly, something whistled past Cassandra’s ear; the vampire screamed again and Cassie froze in terror.

 

The vampire backed up a step, a short, black arrow sticking out from her chest. As the screaming creature tore the arrow out, the wound sealed up before Cassie’s eyes just as another arrow imbedded itself in the vampire’s right shoulder.

 

Cassie turned her gaze towards the direction the arrows came from. A tall, black-haired Amazon dressed in black leather and carrying a crossbow descended the stairs. Her face was covered by a white mask, only her red mouth and chin were visible, and as she let each arrow fly, another magically took its place in her bow.

 

Holstered on her hips was a pair of guns, while the hilt of a sword was visible over her shoulder.

 

A loud, English-accented voice echoed weirdly off the walls.

 

_no, sweet Monster, not tonight_

_will my precious Ash take flight_

_hand in hand with Persephone and Hades_

_down into the Land of Shades_

 

Another arrow hit the vampire in the belly, and then the thigh. Faster and faster they came and with each arrow, the vampire backed away screaming furiously.

 

_hark! gentle Seeker from beyond the stars_

_trapped in the spider-silk of my war_

_will you sing my Ash and soul to take_

_your life a forfeit when she wakes_

 

Cassie’s gaze was drawn again to the helpless child still whimpering piteously on the cold ground. Again—as if her feet had a mind of their own—she found herself at the little girl’s side, lifting her as gently as she could into her arms.

 

_Sanctuary awaits at the top of the stair_

_for within you’ll find this Huntress’ lair_

_in which my Monster and innocent Ash were born_

_in the rape of a cold and terrible morn’_

 

There was nothing Cassandra could do but follow the Huntress’ directions. Cradling the child to her, she retreated to the stairs, climbing it as quickly as she could with her precious burden. At the top—awash with golden light—a doorway gaped, suspended in mid-air.

 

From behind came the clash of metal upon metal. Cassie stopped and looked down. The Monster was driving her black-clad opponent back, her long, pointed steel claws clanging against the Huntress’ sword, which she’d apparently switched to at some point. Sensing that the tides had turned against her defender, Cassandra ran up the last couple of stairs, dashing through the shimmering portal.

 

She found herself in a large room with a high, vaulted ceiling. Golden sunshine streamed in through the large windows on three of the four walls. Shelves laden with books floated in mid air, while a roaring fire blazed in a fireplace that seemed only to frame the flames, as its structure faded into the nothingness of the windows behind it.

 

An old-fashioned divan was positioned in front the fireplace on the other side of a low table set with a silver tea service and plate of small, crust-less sandwiches.

 

Unsure of what to do, Cassie laid the little girl on the divan and turned anxiously back to the glowing doorway, just in time to see Huntress dive through it. In a display of great athleticism, she rolled and rode her momentum up, assuming a defensive posture, sword poised ready to strike.

 

Cassie held her breath as Huntress remained as still as a statue for a few moments before she dropped the sword with a ringing clang of metal against stone and walked calmly towards them. Without a word, she sat down, pulling the little girl into her lap. With one swift motion, she unfastened her leather jacket exposing her breasts. Cassie felt a distinct flush of embarrassment sweep over her face, but before she could look away, Huntress brought her nipple to the child’s mouth and the little girl automatically began to suck.

 

The Monster’s banshee-like scream drew her attention back to the doorway and Cassie realised there was no door. Like magic, the vampire appeared, silhouetted against the golden glow.

 

_ah, to my breast comes my monstrous child_

_blood on her lips, all meek and mild_

_for in Truth she doth sleep_

_in dungeons rank with dreams and deep_

 

Huntress remained seated on the divan, cradling the nursing child in her lap, seemingly unafraid of the vampire stalking across the room. Fearfully, Cassie backed away, but to her shock, the vampire didn’t attack Huntress or the child, Ash. In fact, she didn’t even seem to _notice_ Cassandra, for which the young woman was eternally grateful. Instead Monster handed Huntress a golden cord that was tied around her neck, and then curled up at the woman’s feet, laying her head against her knees.

 

Huntress met Cassandra’s gaze again as she stroked the vampire’s silky, blonde hair. Beneath her white porcelain mask, her red lips tugged into a smile as she spoke quietly, almost fondly.

 

_my darling dog slipped her leash,_

_tore from my breast, my precious Heart_

_to sup upon that dainty dish_

_of love flayed from my guilty part_

 

From outside the room came monstrous howls, leaving Cassandra with visions of grotesque creatures prowling outside. An inarticulate whimper broke free before Cassie could stop herself; Huntress continued in that same soft cultured voice.

 

_tell me Prophet, Apollo-cursed_

_what do you see beyond the veils_

_shrouding this child and her poor wet-nurse_

_and her Monster feasting ’pon your entrails_

 

The soft wet sounds filled Cassandra again, even as hideous pain spread from the epicentre of her belly to sear her mind. Looking down in shock on that blonde head devouring her midsection, Cassie opened her mouth to scream—

 

 _‘Sorry love, your voice be mine,’_ Huntress said, blue eyes filled with tears and regret. _‘And our myriad horrors … thine.’_

 

#


	8. Chapter 8

Max Patey hated Missing Persons cases. Max Patey hated Missing Persons cases involving government employees even more because, inevitably, they always knew far too much classified _shit_ for their own good. And this particular case promised to be a doozey—a real three-ringed circus complete with a government scientist who had a classification rating so high, he probably wasn’t even allowed to breathe the same air as her.

 

 _This_ was the reason he’d jumped at the supervisory position in the small New City field office when it came open four years ago, and all the top guns had been trampling each other to fill his spot back in Washington, DC. He’d just wanted a nice, quiet place to finish out his last decade before retirement. He really didn’t need this shit right now.

 

“Masterson, you and Schubert head to the mall cops’ office and secure the tapes for this lot,” Patey ordered the two younger agents.

 

“Yeah, and hope that those cameras aren’t just dummies for show,” Masterson muttered fatalistically.

 

 _Damn!_ he hadn’t thought of that. “Just do it!” he growled irritably at the young woman. “Joe, go play nice with the locals,” he said to the young man who was the office’s communications liaison. “Let them know that nothing is to be touched until General O’Neill and his team get here.”

 

“You know what agency they’re with?” Joe Tanaka asked as a large, black SUV pulled into the parking lot.

 

“Not a clue,” Max replied. “And I don’t _want_ to know, Joey. This looks to be so far above my pay grade, I get vertigo just thinking about it.”

 

As the younger man loped off to talk with the two local detectives, Cruz and Spivak, who were riding herd on the uniforms cordoning off the scene, Max approached the tiny woman who got out of the rear passenger side of the SUV.

 

“Ma’am, this is a restricted area,” he began and found her ID shoved in his face.

 

 _Dr. Janet Fraiser, MD; Colonel, US Air Force._ Oh boy! The mother of Cassandra Fraiser, the young woman who had disappeared with said Top Secret government scientist, Colonel Samantha Carter.

 

_What ya want to bet Madam Colonel Doctor Fraiser is also classified up the wahzoo, Maxy?_

 

Looking into the woman’s angry, brown eyes, he knew it was a sucker’s bet if there ever was one.

 

“What’s the situation, Agent—” she rapped out, skewering him with a dark look.

 

“Patey, ma’am,” he said, swallowing the urge to snap to attention like a raw recruit in front this tiny woman. “Max Patey, Special Agent in charge of the New City office—I’ve sent two agents to secure the recordings from the parking lot cameras, ma’am, and as per General O’Neill’s orders, no one has touched the car since my agents secured the scene.”

 

“Good,” she said quietly. “General O’Neill is inbound from Reardon Air Force Base; he should be arriving—well right now,” she continued as three black SUVs and a large, black van entered the parking.

 

In something right out of an action movie, the vehicles all stopped nearly simultaneously, and out poured literal Men In Black, but instead of Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones’ natty suits, they all wore black turtlenecks, jackets, BDU pants and woollen hats. They were also all wired with small Bluetooth ear pieces. Most carried very large guns and moved like a precision machine to set up a perimeter around the abandoned vehicle.

 

But even the ones who carried computers had handguns in holsters strapped to their thighs ... like the young, blonde girl—who should have still been in high school by the looks of her—standing in the middle of the computer geeks barking orders.

 

“Miller, Gupta, Brendon,” she said to the three men clutching computer cases. “Get to the security office and pull every scrap from their servers for the past forty-eight hours! I want to be able to sim from every angle and every camera possible. Pascoe, take SG-7 and watch their six.”

 

“Got it Lieutenant!” the team leader said smartly and he and his teammates herded their charges towards the mall entrance.

 

A tall, grey-haired man walked purposefully towards Max and Dr. Fraiser. He was flanked by a dark, hulking mountain of a man on one side, and two men and a woman on the other side. The first man was dressed like the rest of the soldiers and carried a large machine gun, while the second man wore glasses and had a demeanour that screamed _civilian_ , as did the black-haired woman’s demeanour, but in a wholly different way. The easy smile that didn’t reach her eyes—her dark, darting eyes that seemed to take in everything at a glance, reminded him of some of the best, and most charming thieves and con-artists he’d ever run across.

 

Fraiser spoke before he got a chance to. “General, here’s the spare key I got from the rental manager,” she said holding it out to him.

 

General O’Neill nodded. “Mitchell, Murray, go check out the car,” he ordered.

 

“Yes sir,” the younger soldier rapped out, taking the key from Fraiser.

 

“As you wish, O’Neill,” the big, ebony man rumbled. Turning his gaze to the diminutive woman, he continued, “We will find them, Doctor Fraiser.” His confident rumble seemed to roll her title and last name together as if they were one word.

 

“Thank you, Murray,” she said hoarsely.

 

The big man nodded and followed Mitchell to the car.

 

“Patey—right?” O’Neill said turning his attention to him finally.

 

“That’s correct, General O’Neill,” he replied.

 

“Jack,” the other man said easily. “Just call me Jack. Look Patey, I need you to pull your people back now. We’re already starting to draw a crowd,” he said angling his chin to the small group of onlookers gathered just beyond the police tape that had been strung between the lampposts. By the looks of it, a couple of TV stations and newspaper vultures were already present. “This is classified, and my people need room and privacy to do their work.”

 

“Understood sir,” Patey replied, happy to leave it all in O’Neill’s hands. “Ma’am,” he said nodding to Fraiser, before heading towards the perimeter to meet Tanaka, who was talking on his cell.

 

“That was Masterson,” Tanaka reported after ending the call. “She’s pissed. O’Neill’s men have taken over the security office and locked them out. They’re heading out now.”

 

“I know,” he replied. “Re-deploy everyone outside the police tape. As of this moment, we’re on crowd control with the local PD.”

 

Tanaka looked at him quizzically. “And you’re okay with this Boss?”

 

Patey took one last look at the general, now in conference with Mitchell, who’d just pulled what looked to be a woman’s purse from the trunk of the car.  The black-haired woman moved with feline grace to wrap one arm about Fraiser’s slight shoulders and now appeared to be supporting the doctor.

 

“One thing I’ve learned in all my years in Washington—when a general shows up with his black ops team, _classified_ becomes a magic word that makes everything else just disappear,” he said quietly.  “Believe me; you don’t want to be anywhere near when this thing blows open.”

 

#


	9. Chapter 9

Samantha Carter screamed as consciousness came rushing back, like a great wall of water bursting through a flimsy dam unable to withstand such an elemental force.

 

She struggled against her shackles—her screams echoing off the walls; it took her rational mind a moment to realise that this unholy noise was coming from her own throat.

 

Her body was on fire. With every breath, it consumed her throat, her lungs ... her very being.

 

“Helen ... Helen ... it’s all right,” crooned the red-haired woman she’d come to know as the head researcher. “Don’t struggle so, my beautiful, golden Phoenix. Soon you’ll be good as new ... better than new ... so much better than before. I like you as a blonde,” she said, fingering a long lock of Sam’s sweat-dampened hair.

 

At the sudden change in subject, Sam looked down into the woman’s eyes and found herself looking into true insanity.

 

“I’m told you born with radiant, golden hair—I’m so glad you decided to return to that colour now, on the eve of your rebirth. Oh, the things you must have seen … the people you must have met—what I wouldn’t have given to have been with you on your journeys, dear Helen.”

 

She stroked Sam’s arm—no doubt she thought she was being gentle—but to Sam, it felt like she was removing an entire dermal layer with the coarsest sandpaper. She _screamed_.

 

“I thought your daughter was extraordinary, Helen, but you—you are simply magnificent!” the madwoman babbled, heedless of Sam’s increasingly hoarse cries. “I regret that we don’t have a proper tank to ease your transitions from one stage to the next, but you’re proving so much stronger than I ever thought possible! I knew I should have insisted that insufferable Whitcomb bring you in as well as Ashley. If she had, we wouldn’t be in the state we’re in right now. Ah well, at least your _lovely_ Mr. Druitt took care of her for me—didn’t he now? I wonder if she suffered much ...”

 

She hummed tunelessly under her breath for a few moments. “No matter, my beautiful Helen,” she muttered. “Soon, you will be mother to an entire race of soldiers, and together we will usher in a glorious new age for Humanity. Stage one is nearly completed—and in no time, you’ll be ready for your miraculous rebirth.

 

“I’ve always thought we were destined to meet; I never imagined it would be today. But suddenly, there you were within my reach—” She chuckled softly. “A mall—I never imagined that our first encounter would be so utterly prosaic, dear Helen. Yet, here we are. Destiny will not be denied.”

 

Sam whimpered, partly in pain and partly in fear; the woman was nuts—completely certifiable. There could be no question of reasoning with her, and if she got any inkling that Sam was not this Helen she was after …

 

“Tell me, what sort of abilities does that little Abnormal you took shopping have?” Sam’s heart sank into her gut as she stared mutely at her torturer. “You two looked very close; was it so easy for your heart to replace your daughter?”

 

 _Cassie! I can’t let her do this to Cassie!_ Frantically, she fought against her bonds, but her only reward was more excruciating pain.

 

“Don’t want to tell me, huh—well you will soon enough,” she said ignoring Sam’s whimpered cries. “We always find out sooner or later. Now where is that boy with your blood analysis? I’m quite anxious to finish this phase and get started on your transformation. The preliminary dose of the Source Blood doesn’t seem to be bringing out the same abnormal qualities to the surface that it did in Ashley, but I suppose that’s to be expected. You’ve already been exposed and she inherited many of those abilities from her father. Perhaps one day I’ll have him as well, and then … oh, what a family you will make!”

 

Drawing a shuddering breath to calm her hysteria, Sam cast her mind away from the torture chamber that was the laboratory, reaching unerringly for Cassandra’s bright beacon.

 

Connecting with Cassie was like surfacing from a foetid, muck-clogged pond into blessedly clean, pure air.

 

 _‘Sam! You’re awake!’_ the young woman cried happily.

 

 _‘And I wish to God I wasn’t,’_ Sam replied hollowly. _‘We have to get out of here, Cassie; we have to get out of here, now!’_

 

 _‘What’s happening?’_ Cassie was immediately concerned. _‘What’s going on?’_

 

 _‘I don’t know how much longer this crazy bitch will leave you alone,’_ she said frantically. _‘Apparently, she’s gone as far with me as she can right now, and she’s wondering about your abilities.’_

 

Cassie’s abject terror flooded their link and it was all Sam could do to keep a clear mind without breaking contact.

 

 _‘Get a hold of your self, Cassandra!’_ she said more harshly than she intended. _‘You can’t fall apart on me now, sweetheart. We need a plan—’_

 

She could feel the young woman gather her courage. _‘Actually, I’ve been working on that, Sam. I’ve found the other two test subjects. One of them is completely gone; they’ve smashed her mind completely. All that’s left now is their programmable monster—although, I don’t think she’ll stay with the program much longer. Whatever they’ve done to her, it’s not only destroyed her mind, it’s apparently destroying her body from the inside out.’_

 

Sam shuddered. Was _this_ the fate that awaited her at the end of their so-called treatments?

 

_‘And the other subject?’_

 

_‘Almost as bad, but for some reason, her body isn’t breaking down and it looks like she’s managed to hang onto some semblance of her psyche. Rather than being completely smashed to bits, it seems that her mind fractured into at least three distinct personalities to protect her. Like the other girl, there’s Monster—it’s the personality she created in response to the torture and it’s what does the killing for these people. Monster is a blonde about my age, has claws and fangs and looks like a vampire._

_‘Then there’s Huntress—a tall, Amazon-like woman, who seems to embody the role of the protector. She’s dark-haired, wears a mask, has an English accent, but speaks mostly in riddles and rhymes, and is almost rational in a weird sort of way. She’s usually got a crossbow in one hand, a sword strapped to her back, two guns strapped to her thighs, knives in her boots and often, she’s the one holding Monster’s leash—they seem to have a pretty complicated relationship. As I understand them, she’s the one that lets Monster loose on her targets, but a lot of the times Monster also turns around and attacks her._

_‘However, Huntress’ main job seems to be protecting the third personality, a little blonde girl called Ash, from Monster’s attacks. She’s about five years old—’_

 

 _‘Ash! Are you sure she’s called Ash?’_ Sam asked excitedly.

 

Cassandra’s confusion suffused their link. _‘Pretty sure,’_ she replied. _‘It is what Huntress calls her—why?’_

 

 _‘The woman they mistook me for—Helen—her daughter’s name is_ Ashley _,’_ Sam explained. ‘ _They took her as one of their first test subjects because she has some special abilities inherited from her mother and father. The lead researcher wanted to also abduct Helen, but was apparently overruled by someone higher up in the organisation.’_

 

 _‘And you think that Ash is what’s left of Ashley,’_ Cassandra said thoughtfully. _‘It’s possible—in fact, if I understand Huntress correctly, Ash has the ability to teleport, but there’s some sort of interference barrier around this building that prevents her from doing so.’_

 

 _‘I’d say that’s a pretty special ability,’_ Sam said.

 

_‘Tell me about it. Anyway, I’ve managed to get Huntress to trust me and she’s let me take Monster’s leash—’_

 

_‘What! Cassie, you just finished telling me that Monster often turns on Huntress—’_

 

 _‘I know,’_ Cassie said quickly, _‘but I can protect myself, Sam—really I can. She already tried to attack me, but I was able to control her. They exist in a huge, rambling castle that is filled with monsters and demons; they scream at night and bay at the moon. But all three personalities exist together in a large library or sunroom—it seems to be neutral territory for them. If my idea is going to work, we need all three of them working together, and that won’t happen if Huntress has to act as both Monster’s keeper and Ash’s protector. And when push comes to shove, she’s first and foremost, Ash’s protector—her first instinct when Ash is in danger is to take the little girl and run._

_“Monster is becoming increasingly dominant even as she devolves into irrationality. She chases Huntress and Ash all over the castle trying to feed on Ash, forces Huntress to fight her at almost every turn, and then both mindlessly wale away on each other until they’re too battered to continue—Huntress with her weapons and Monster with her teeth and claws. If I’m going to keep control of the situation, I need Huntress to be rational, not worried about Ash.  And I need Monster to do what I tell her, when I tell her._

_‘I can act as Monster’s keeper, while Huntress concentrates all her energies on protecting Ash and keeping the balance between the three of them. That way I get some semblance of a fighter and not simply a mindless animal.’_

 

 _‘Are you sure you going to be able to do that Cassie,’_ Sam asked, still incredibly concerned. _‘You said that Huntress is the one who lets Monster loose on her targets—can you bring yourself to do that? Can you order her to kill people?’_

 

Through their link, she felt the young woman’s fear wash over her, but she also felt her utter determination.

 

 _‘I can do this, Sam, I know I can,’_ Cassie replied. _‘And I know that I’m going to have to kill as well,’_ she continued sorrowfully. _‘I don’t want to have to do it, but they’ve left us no choice. I know it’s going to be ugly, Sam. My telekinetic power isn’t exactly a finely-tuned instrument—I can control it … but …’_

 

 _‘The strength of the hurricane depends on local weather conditions,’_ Sam said grimly.

 

_‘And the forecast isn’t looking very good.’_

 

 _‘All right,’_ Sam continued quietly. _‘Then let’s get started. We can assume that your Mom has already alerted Jack and the team, and both_ Hammond _and_ Daedalus _are in orbit, so you know they’ll be looking for us. What’s your plan?’_

 

 _‘I’m going to blow out the door on Ashley’s cell,’_ Cassie replied, _‘and set Monster loose to take out the guards in the corridor. If I understand Huntress correctly, she heals incredibly fast and she can take a couple of bullet strikes without it slowing her down. Then I’m going to blow out my door—hopefully get a couple of the guards’ guns. When I’m free, we’ll be coming straight to you. Once you’re free, you and Monster will cover us while I blow power system—take down the EM field generator. As soon as it’s down, Huntress will get Ash to teleport us out of here. If I understand correctly, her mother has the defences to keep us safe until we can contact Mom and General Jack.’_

 

A sudden sonic boom deafened Sam; she nearly jumped out of her skin, crying out involuntarily as her wrists and ankles chaffed against her bonds.

 

_‘What was that?’_

 

 _‘The door on Ashley’s cell,’_ Cassandra replied with disturbing calm.

 

And then Sam felt it coming towards her—flooding her link to her daughter—the soul-shredding madness surfing the crest of a tsunami of blood and screams.

 

#


	10. Chapter 10

In the back of the surveillance van, Jack O’Neill watched Janet Fraiser as Lieutenant Jennifer Hailey played back the crappy security recording and attempted to decipher what the kidnappers were saying. However, one thing was clear; it was a professional precision job and Samantha Carter had been specifically targeted.

 

Jack hadn’t seen the small doctor look this angry since the Goa’uld, Nirrti’s experiment on Cassandra’s people—in an effort to produce a genetically advanced host—had come to light. The parasitic alien’s experiment had expanded Cassie’s mind so much, the girl had developed telepathic and telekinetic abilities, but it had the side-effect of nearly killing the then sixteen-year-old. Six years ago, Fraiser had held a gun to the Goa’uld’s head to force the bitch to cure her daughter, and right now, Jack was seeing the same expression on her face.

 

After that incident, Cassandra had seemingly gone back to normal. Only Janet and the original SG-1 team—Jack, Sam, Daniel and Teal’c—knew that the young woman’s abilities had started to manifest again in the last two years, but in a slow, incremental manner that she worked hard to control. It made sense that Nirrti would hedge her bets and try again to re-acquire a powerful and _mature_ Cassandra again in the future.

 

However, not even the two new team members, Cameron Mitchell and Vala Mal Doran, knew about the young woman’s abilities; although Jack was fairly certain that the wily Vala—having had experience with her own super-powered daughter—suspected something was up with Cassie.

 

Pain and worry etched Janet Fraiser’s face, overlaying the anger, as she again watched Cassandra collapse and Sam’s valiant efforts to defend their daughter despite the tranquiliser flooding her veins. And Jack knew that if Cassie was awake—and in range—the first person she’d try to contact telepathically would be Janet.

 

“I think I’ve got it,” Hailey said quietly as she turned up the volume. “It isn’t much and it’s confusing, but here goes.”

 

 _“The old girl has still got some fight left in her,”_ the lead kidnapper sneered. _“Hit the bitch again!”_

 

A second dart took the fight out of Sam as it imbedded itself in her chest just above her right breast. She crashed hard, her head bouncing off the concrete as she went down.

 

A younger, dark-haired man asked, _“What do you want to do with the car?”_

 

 _“Leave it,”_ the first man replied. _“Leave it all for Druitt and the rest of the Sanctuary’s freaks to find. They’ll know who it was. And who knows, maybe it will teach them_ not _to interfere in our business again.”_

 

“Well that makes no sense!” Jack fumed. “And who the hell is Druitt?”

 

“It could be Pruitt,” Hailey offered quietly, but the question still hung in the air; Jack knew of no _Pruitt_ who had any connection to Sam.

 

“And what about this sanctuary they’re talking about?” Mitchell asked.

 

“Well, we’ve given sanctuary to any number of refugees over the years,” Daniel offered. “Could this be someone or some rogue group that objects to us offering aid and shelter to—you know … other people out there?”

 

“I don’t think so, Daniel,” Janet said thoughtfully as she studied the frozen recording of the five men—dressed in black similar to the SG teams—who were in the process of loading Sam and Cassie’s limp bodies into a non-descript black van. “The way he says “Druitt and the rest of _the_ _Sanctuary’s_ freaks”, makes it sound like “the Sanctuary” is a place or an organisation, which leads me to suspect that this Druitt might be a leader who got in these people’s way. You know, Jack, this might be a case of mistaken identity.”

 

 _“What?”_ he exploded.

 

“Is the FBI still out there?” she asked, ignoring his outburst as she flipped through Sam’s personnel folder.  “I have a hunch.”

 

“Yes, they’re still there,” Hailey replied as Janet pulled a photo from the file.

 

Before Jack could say anything, she opened the back door and jumped out of the van. All Jack and the others could do was follow as she hurried through the late evening drizzle to Patey and his colleagues.

 

“Agent Patey,” she said briskly. “Do you know of a place or an organisation around here called _Sanctuary_ —possibly run by someone named Druitt?”

 

All the FBI agents reacted visibly; interestingly, the people who had the strongest reactions were the two local detectives.

 

“Yes, there’s a private clinic down in Old City called the Sanctuary, ma’am,” Patey replied. “But I don’t know about any Druitt associated with them; it’s run by a woman named Magnus—Dr. Helen Magnus.”

 

“It figures,” said the Hispanic detective in an exasperated tone. “Anything weird happening around here and Old Helen is bound to be in the thick of it somewhere.”

 

 _“Old Helen?”_ Jack asked.

 

“Well she ain’t that old,” his partner said with a grin. “She’s quite the looker actually—looks about thirty-five or forty, although she has to be pushing fifty by now. British woman ... but she’s been a fixture around here for at least twenty-five years—old friends with the chief of police, according to scuttlebutt. Bit of a vigilante—she and that daughter of hers go around rescuing the more _unfortunate_ dregs that seem to gravitate here ... do some monster hunting.”

 

“What the detective means,” the young Japanese FBI agent, Tanaka, continued quickly, “is that Dr. Magnus tends to take in the more unusual cases—the disfigured and deformed, and she apparently doesn’t shy away from taking violent patients. A colleague of ours, Jake Polanski, worked with Dr. Will Zimmerman, a forensic psychiatrist who also used to work as a profiler for the NCPD, and now works for her. Zimmerman has nothing but good things to say about her and her work.”

 

“Does she—or anyone who works for her—look like this woman?” Janet asked holding out Sam’s picture.

 

Tanaka took the photograph and peered closely at the face. “I’ve only seen her once, but yes, that looks like Dr. Magnus,” he replied. “In fact- it does look a lot like her, except that Magnus is a brunette, not a blonde.”

 

He handed it to the city detectives and Cruz whistled loudly. “Man, does she ever look like Magnus!”

 

“You think it might be a case of mistaken identity,” Patey said shrewdly as he took the photograph and studied the face, “that your Colonel Carter was snatched by someone gunning for Dr. Magnus?

 

“It’s starting to look that way,” Jack replied as Patey returned the photo to Janet.

 

“You know, this may fit with some things we’ve been hearing down in Old City lately about Magnus and the Sanctuary,” Cruz said. “According to Detective Kavanaugh, rumour has it that Old Helen and Will Zimmerman got sideways of some pretty dangerous people a few months ago and her daughter, Ashley, may have paid the price for it—got kidnapped and was killed sometime in the last couple of months.”

 

 _“Oh God!”_ Fraiser paled and looked like she was about to faint as Daniel put his arms around her.

 

“This is the first I’m hearing of it,” Patey said darkly.

 

“Hey, just a rumour on the streets,” Cruz said. “Nothing’s been confirmed except that Ashley Magnus hasn’t been seen for at least five or six months.”

 

“Do you know who _Old Helen_ may have pissed off so badly?” Mitchell asked.

 

“Not a clue, except that they’re pretty damned well connected—way above even the Chief’s pay grade,” Cruz replied. “There hasn’t been a whiff of it in any official channel, but the way I hear it, Magnus and Zimmerman got in the middle of a turf war between guys running some sort of berserker designer drug and another gang running some underground bloodfights using street people—or maybe they were the same gang, I don’t know. But it was soon after the fights stopped that the rumours started—that while Magnus was out of town, someone had made a play for Ashley and Henry, a kid she’d taken in about twenty years ago, and that she managed to get Henry back, but not her daughter. Then about two months ago, there was some sort of disturbance at the Sanctuary—again, nothing made it into the official record, but it was after that the rumours started about the kid being dead.”

 

“Then this Sanctuary is where we go next,” O’Neill said decisively. “Find out from Helen Magnus who in hell she got herself mixed up with.”

 

“Sir, you may want to hold off on that thought—we may already know,” Hailey said from behind him—he hadn’t even known she was there. “Those _assets_ you wanted me to check out sir—we got a hit.” Moving off to the side, she showed him her computer screen, on which there was a map of the city grid with two blinking icons. Pointing to the icon in New City, she continued in a hushed whisper, “It’s a pharmaceutical company now in the hands of GenTech Pharma, a subsidiary of an international conglomerate called Methuselah International. However, two years ago, it was a part of Henry Wallace’s Devlin Medical Technologies.”

 

“The guy who kidnapped McKay and his sister?” Mitchell said frowning as he made the connection.

 

“Yes sir,” Hailey said. “Thing is, General O’Neill,” she said lowering her voice, “this place has an EM shield around the entire building.”

 

 _“What?”_ Jack shouted.

 

“Furthermore, so does this _Sanctuary_ over here in Old City,” she continued quietly, indicating to the second blinking icon.

 

“How the _hell_ do these people have EM shields?” Jack hissed.

 

“I don’t know, sir, but I think it’s safe to say that Methuselah may be the group that Magnus and her Sanctuary ran afoul of,” she replied. “And as of five minutes ago, _Hammond_ registered some strange seismic activity at the building site—and it’s localised to just _that_ building. That’s what tweaked their sensors, but it took a deeper subspace scan to get a read on the Sanctuary’s shield—it’s pretty sophisticated, sir. The shield around the pharmaceutical building is destabilising—throwing off random frequency shifts in radiation. It’s like there’s something powerful _inside_ trying to smash its way out, but even with the massive explosions _Hammond_ is picking up, there’s no evidence of any type of _explosives_ at work that could cause such seismic activity, sir.”

 

 _“Jack ...”_ Janet Fraiser whispered, the look in her eyes telling him she was thinking the same thing he was.

 

 _Cassandra_.

 

“I know, Janet,” he said gently. “All right—is the car secure?”

 

“Yes sir,” Mitchell replied, studying them speculatively. “SG-13 will take it back to Reardon.”

 

“Then let’s move out,” Jack ordered and Mitchell hustled the teams to their respective vehicles. Jack walked back and held his hand out to the senior FBI agent. “Good meeting you, Patey,” he said as they shook hands. “Thanks for the co-operation and for not pushing to get in the middle of this. Word of advice—there’ll be a report in a few minutes of a disturbance at one of the buildings in the downtown core. You and your guys might want to take your time getting there.”

 

Patey’s eyes widened a fraction, before understanding and respect settled in them. “Understood, General O’Neill,” he replied quietly. “Thank you—I hope you find your people.”

 

“Me too,” Jack said as the van pulled up beside him. He hopped in the back and closed the door as it roared out of the mall parking lot. “Major Benson,” he called to the _Hammond’s_ new second in command. “What’s the situation at that building?”

 

“The EM shield came down about two minutes ago,” Sam’s 2IC reported smartly. “It crashed part of the power grid, so there’s a blackout for about a five-block radius surrounding the place. We’re getting ready to beam three units of Marines in to secure the site.”

 

“Good man,” Jack said approvingly. “Once that’s done, beam my personnel—except for the drivers and their wingmen—up to the ship and then down to the site.”

 

“Understood sir,” Benson replied. “Stand by.”

 

#


	11. Chapter 11

Cassie watched with sick fascination as Monster ripped her way towards the lab with brutal efficiency. Throat and chest; those were her targets and she found her mark each time—sometimes simply slashing through her victim and pulling out his heart.

 

Cassie swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as Monster gloried in the thrill of each kill. Another guard stepped into the far side of the corridor, taking aim at her. Reflexively, Cassie’s finger squeezed the trigger of the handgun she’d liberated from one of the guards Monster had killed in their break out.

 

_Just the way you taught me, Sam; just the way you taught me._

 

With strange dispassion, she watched the man fall, his death throes accompanied by a hail of machine gun fire that pierced the roof and ricocheted off the walls. Almost too late, she realised the danger and forced her mind outwards, hurling the dying man—and his bullets—into the far wall at the end of the corridor.

 

A cacophony of shrill screams caught her attention now, as Monster tore her way though the labs. The scientists scattered, trying to make for the exits. Cassie slammed all the doors shut. And then, when she caught sight of a struggling Sam, manacled to the bed and the fires of hell burning in her dark—almost black—eyes, she slammed the scientists into those doors. And the walls. And the ceiling. And the floor.

 

The screaming stopped.

 

Moments later, Monster’s banshee wail sounded. She stood frozen in front of a short, red-haired woman, hand around her throat.

 

 _The head scientist_ , Cassie realised from Sam’s descriptions.

 

“Remember, you can’t hurt me, Ashley,” she said in an incongruously teasing tone of voice as she stood ankle-deep in the blood and carnage Monster had wrought all around her. “You’re _programmed_ not to.”

 

Monster screamed again, a sound of pure rage and frustration. Lightening-fast, she moved, and almost before Cassie could register it, she’d hit the release control for Sam’s manacles. Suddenly, before she could register any movement, Cassie’s gun was in Sam’s rock-steady hand, pointed directly at the woman’s head.

 

“ _She_ might be programmed, but I’m _not_ ,” came that glacially cold voice that sounded nothing like Sam.

 

A small, neat hole appeared in the middle of the shocked woman’s forehead. The gun’s deafening report tore throughout the lab like a sonic boom, and its echoes seemed to grow louder and louder, each iteration deluging Cassie’s mind like a relentless flood.

 

“The guards are breaking through the doors, Cassie!” Sam shouted—urgency prevalent in her hoarse voice as she took the extra clips from Cassie’s pockets. “You’ve got to blow the generator now! Ashley and I will hold them off for as long as we can.”

 

Cassie nodded dumbly, trying to focus her overloaded mind. Around her chaos reigned as Sam and Ashley answered the guards’ invasion into the room. Cassie gathered her will and focused on the lines of energy permeating the room. Following the strongest back, she forced her mind outward, pouring all her anger and hatred into the source in wave after relentless wave.

 

Electronics sparked and exploded. Lights flickered and then died, plunging the lab into a murky dimness. Cassie fell to her knees, utterly exhausted.

 

In the darkness, the guards screamed, trying to get away as the maelstrom that was Monster as she tore through them, her madness pulling Cassie along for the ride.

 

“Cassie! Call her off!” Sam shrieked, gun clicking emptily. “Tell her to get us out of—”

 

Cassie looked up just in time to see Sam fall, blood seeping darkly through pale fingers clutching at her abdomen, trying to stem the flood.

 

_“Sam!”_

 

#

 

Gun in hand, Helen raced down the corridor to the tech lab. Will Zimmerman caught up with her at the door and they entered the room together. Their team, Henry Foss, Kate Freelander, Declan McCrae and the Big Guy, were already there.

 

“What’s going on, Henry?” she asked the technician breathlessly, her accent more prevalent than normal. “Why the alarm?”

 

“I’m not sure, Boss,” he replied. “But we’re getting some weird readings on those new detectors I’ve been tinkering with to give us a heads up on teleportation activity—”

 

“Someone’s trying to teleport into the Sanctuary?”

 

“Not here, Boss—some building in New City,” he said bringing up a digital map of the city, “belongs to a pharmaceutical company. The weird thing is—the detectors aren’t pinging on teleportation activity, but on an EM shield around that building.”

 

“A shield? Why didn’t we detect it before?” Will asked; the confusion was evident in his voice.

 

“Because normally we can’t—at least I didn’t know we could, since if our shield is properly balanced, you shouldn’t be able to detect it from the outside unless something tries to teleport across it,” Henry said excitedly as he brought up a display of what looked like frequency oscillations. “But for some reason, this thing’s become unstable in the last couple of minutes and is showing up as spikes all over the spectrum.”

 

“It has to be the Cabal,” Helen said angrily. “We have to get over there fast and find out what in _hell_ is going on, because if they were housing Abnormals ... experimenting on them—and if that shield goes down—”

 

“ _Whoa-ho-ho!_ There she blows!” Henry said cackling madly as the screen blazed a blinding white for a few seconds. “Too late, Boss—that thing’s toast and it’s wiped out power to a couple city blocks surrounding the building.”

 

Helen started towards the door and Will turned to follow her out, but Henry’s sudden shout stopped them.

 

“Whoa! Teleport activity! Someone just got the hell out of there!”

 

As Helen turned back to face Henry; Will saw the sudden flash of hope in her eyes. “Can you tell where they went?” she asked hoarsely.

 

“Scanning for teleport signature within a hundred klicks now,” the young werewolf replied, working his magic on his keyboard. “They’re ... here,” he said looking up at Magnus, who jumped as the front gate buzzer blared.

 

After a long moment of silence, Henry brought up the surveillance camera at the gate. A face filled the frame; she was young and blonde, shivering in the late evening drizzle that was threatening another cloudburst, but she was not Ashley.

 

“Hello ... is anyone there?” she cried plaintively. “Is this the Sanctuary? Is Helen there?”

 

Helen started towards the intercom, but Declan stopped her. He nodded to Henry, who activated the device.

 

“Who is this?” Declan asked.

 

“My name is Cassandra Fraiser,” the girl shouted over the wind. “I’m looking for Helen—she has a daughter named Ashley.”

 

Helen gave an inarticulate cry at the sound of her daughter’s name, but Declan held her still, one hand clamped around her wrist. “It might be a trick, Magnus!” he said harshly. “Ashley is dead,” he barked to the intercom’s pick-up.

 

“Well for a dead person, she can certainly kick ass!” the girl said sarcastically. “Ashley is out here with me. She’s not exactly in a talkative mood, but she’s here. She pulled that neat little magic trick I’m sure you _all_ know about and brought us here ... me and my Mum, Samantha Carter. This afternoon—or maybe it was yesterday—some goons kidnapped Sam and me from the Waterview Mall. They thought Sam was Helen—look, I can explain this, but you’ve got to let us in! Sam and Ashley are hurt. Ashley is holding her own—she seems to heal incredibly fast, but Sam’s bleeding out all over the sidewalk!” she cried hysterically.

 

Helen struggled against Declan’s grip. “Let me go!” she cried desperately.

 

“Look!” the girl shouted. “Let us in before I have to go all _Hurricane Cassie_ and bust up your pretty little shield! And I can guarantee you won’t like it any more than those sadistic _bastards_ who experimented on Sam did! And they only experimented on her—pumped her full of some crazy-ass blood to try and turn her into a psycho-killer like Ashley—because they thought she was Helen!”

 

Will’s heart plummeted into his boots as he met Helen’s devastated gaze. Pushing past Declan, he answered the intercom. “We’re coming out, Cassie,” he said. “We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

 

“Just hurry up and get your asses out here!” she spat in disgust.

 

When Declan let Helen go, Will caught her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. He knew that her first instinct was to run out there to her daughter, but if Ashley was anything like the programmed, brainwashed assassin they’d tangled with the last time, she was still incredibly dangerous. And even after everything that had happened, there was no way Helen would be able to be objective when confronted with her child.

 

“You need to go prep your surgery now,” he said, his eyes begging her to understand. “If they’ve been in a fight with the Cabal, both Ashley and this Sam woman will need your services as a doctor first, Magnus.” She opened her mouth to protest. “We’ll bring her in, Helen. I promise we’ll bring Ashley home.”

 

Helen nodded jerkily and he squeezed her hand gently before running out after his teammates.  After throwing on his jacket, Kate pressed one of Henry’s newest souped-up stun guns into his hands and they raced out into the night behind Declan and Big Guy.

 

The three women were huddled just outside the gate. The girl, Cassandra, held another blonde-haired woman cradled against her, hand pressed against a wound in the woman’s side. And crouched in front of them was Ashley Magnus, her vampiric fangs and claws ready to tear them apart. She hissed menacingly as they stepped forward.

 

 _“Monster, stop!”_ Cassandra commanded and Ashley gave a cry of pure rage. “Come,” she continued quietly, and to their surprise, Ashley scuttled back into the girl’s one-armed embrace.

 

Cassandra met Will’s gaze. “She won’t hurt you,” she said quietly. “I have her under control. Just take Sam and get her inside out of the rain—I’ll lead Ashley in.”

 

Will nodded and gestured for Big Guy to take the injured woman from Cassandra. As the Sasquatch butler lifted the woman up, her face came into view for the first time.

 

 _“Oh my God!”_ Will whispered as he looked into a deathly pale twin of Helen Magnus’ face.

 

 _“Holy shit!”_ Kate exclaimed behind him, just as Declan muttered, _“Bloody hell!”_

 

Cassandra rose and pulled Ashley closer into her embrace. “I get it; Sam really looks like Ashley’s mother,” she said impatiently. “But can we get her the hell out of this cold rain and someplace we can get that damned bullet out of her?”

 

Will nodded and Big Guy took off at a brisk lope back to the house. Kate went next, while Will walked next to the two young women, keeping an eye on a strangely docile, yet still vampiric, Ashley.

 

Declan brought up the rear and Will didn’t have to look back to know that his gun was trained on the two young women. He did however, wonder which one the other man considered more dangerous; Ashley with her preternatural super-Abnormal abilities, or Cassandra with her ability to not only control Ashley, but also her self-confessed ability to bring down the Sanctuary’s shield.

 

Henry stood near the elevator and stared open-mouthed as the Big Guy passed him with the unconscious woman in his arms. The two young women barely spared him a glance as they also hurried into the elevator. Declan made a move to stop the girls from entering behind the Big Guy, but the glare Cassandra gave him stopped his protest before it began; there was no way that young woman was letting her mother out of her sight.

 

Declan got in next to Will, while Kate stayed in the foyer with Henry.

 

Helen was already in scrubs and her lab coat when the door opened onto the first level of the infirmary. As Cassandra led Ashley out of the elevator, she ran forward, homing in on her daughter and automatically reaching for her, while the Big Guy hurried past to lay the injured woman on one of the waiting gurneys.

 

Cassandra drew Ashley back, putting her body between mother and daughter. “Don’t try to touch her, ma’am,” she said gently and Helen stopped, trembling where she stood. “She can’t control herself—basically her personality has been splintered into fragments. There are three I know of—the one that’s out right now is called Monster—”

 

Helen gave a low, inarticulate cry of pure pain; the girl continued resolutely, “And Monster’s last order regarding you was to kill you, which she failed to do last time. I’m a telepath, ma’am—and she’s bonded to me as her Keeper. She trusts me to tell her when to kill and when to stop. Let me get her into one of those beds and once she feels safe, perhaps I can persuade Monster to go to sleep and coax Huntress into speaking with you—I think she’s the one that saved you the last time from Monster. If you can get Huntress to trust you, then perhaps she’ll allow Ash to surface.”

 

Helen nodded, tears pouring down her face. “Huntress? Ash?” she croaked.

 

“Monster is the vampire assassin you see,” Cassandra explained quickly. “The Huntress persona is the protector—and looks … sounds a hell of a lot like you, ma’am, except she wears a mask, dresses in black leather and is bristling with weapons—knives, guns, crossbow ... broadsword. You name it and it magically appears in her hand. She protects Ash, who has the persona of a little blonde five-year-old girl. I think she’s the embodiment of what’s left of _Ashley_.

 

“Ma’am, please, you’ve got to help Sam,” the girl continued desperately. “I can keep Monster under control. Your daughter has already healed her bullet wounds—but Sam’s lost a lot of blood. She isn’t healing like Ashley, probably because we escaped before whatever Frankenstein experiment they were carrying out on her was completed. You _have_ to get that bullet out of her. _Please_. I also need to call my mother and have her bring blood in case Sam needs a transfusion—her biology was altered a couple of years ago and she can’t take blood from anyone else.”

 

Helen nodded and dried her eyes before hurrying over to the occupied bed. She stopped short as she saw the other woman’s face for the first time.

 

 _“What in the world?”_ she croaked hoarsely, blood draining from her face, and leaving it even paler against her dark hair. “My dear God,” she whispered as she got to work cutting the woman’s wet clothes off and hooking her up to the life support machines and monitors.

 

“Your mother?” Declan growled suspiciously. “I thought you said _Sam_ was your mother.”

 

The girl glared at him, and Ashley hissed, lunging at him before Cassandra gentled her again with a touch.

 

“What is your problem?” she demanded. “Sam’s my Mum—she’s a second mother to me. She’s helped my Mom raise me since I was ten years old!”

 

She turned her attention back to Magnus. “Helen, look, my Mom is Dr. Janet Fraiser, MD, United States Air Force—” Pointing to the blonde-haired figure in the bed, she continued, “And she is Colonel Samantha Carter, a very important government scientist—also USAF—and for some reason, you’re wearing her _freaking_ face! Now, will you please tell somebody get me a bloody phone so I can call my mother to number one, tell her Sam and I are safe, before she brings down General O’Neill and the entire USAF on your damned heads, and number two, tell her to bring enough blood to replace what Sam lost saving _your_ daughter’s life!”

 

“Give her your phone, Will,” Magnus ordered before turning her attention back to Samantha Carter’s wound. “Cassandra, tell your mother I can keep Samantha stable, but we’ll need to operate soon.”

 

#


	12. Chapter 12

Janet surveyed the laboratory she stood in and tried not to lose the contents of her stomach. _Carnage_ was too nice a word to describe the mayhem. Walls and floors were cracked, plastic and metal were warped almost beyond recognition, and every bit of glass in the place was shattered; only what Hailey had identified as bullet proof glass remained—and that was spider-webbed with cracks. The building itself groaned as if in pain.

 

Then there were the bodies—some were pulpy, bloody smears against the walls, floor and even ceiling; grown men and women picked up and bodily hurled against the solid surfaces with tremendous force.

 

 _“Oh, my baby,”_ Janet whispered, _“What did these monsters force you to do?”_

 

Others bore the hallmarks of a professional soldier who wasted little ammunition—one or two neat rounds to heart or head.

 

_Sam … such controlled slaughter could only be Sam when she was in the zone and needed to make each bullet count._

 

And then there were those that looked like they’d literally been ripped apart by a savage animal’s claws—a grizzly or maybe a large cat. Janet didn’t know what to think, but from the evidence so far, a modern Mengele had been running some very sick experiments.

 

“General O’Neill, Dr. Fraiser,” a young medic from the _Hammond_ called, beckoning them over. “It looks like they were definitely here, sir … ma’am,” he said holding up a vial of sluggish green liquid. “Some of the blood samples tested positive for the presence of _naquadah_. I won’t be able to tell whose blood it is or if it’s from both until I get the samples back to my lab, but I think we can safely say that they were here—the samples are fresh, less than half an hour old.”

 

“Question is—where are they now?” Janet said anxiously, biting back her tears.

 

“We’ll find them,” Vala said encouragingly.

 

“Hailey!” Jack called. “Got anything?”

 

“Not much sir,” the girl replied, frowning as she looked up from her computer. “My scanners are picking up a faint residual subspace disturbance in this room. It might be related to that weird subspace flutter _Hammond’s_ sensors registered.” The computer’s insistent beeping interrupted her and she looked down at it, frown deepening even more in perplexity. “You know sir, if I didn’t know better, from the spectrum analysis of the disturbance I’d say that someone or something beamed out of here just moments after the shield went down.”

 

“But there’s no evidence of beaming technology in the facility,” Jack said thoughtfully.

 

“No sir,” Hailey replied. “So far, our teams haven’t found anything, which suggests that they didn’t have access to such technology here. The only conclusion I can think of is that whoever—whatever was beamed out, it was done remotely.”

 

_“So, what you’re saying is that they could be anywhere!”_

 

Janet tried to control her panic, but when the young woman flinched at the volume and the accusation inherent in her voice, she knew that she’d lost that battle.

 

Turning away from Hailey, she fought to breathe, but it felt like a giant hand had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart mercilessly. Suddenly, all she could hear was the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears and clinging to all her years of training, she fought the urge to scream her fear and rising hysteria.

 

_Oh, dear God! Cassie, where are you?_

 

A sudden shrill noise slashed across her panicked thoughts and it took her a moment to realise that her cell phone was ringing. Fumbling to get it out of her coat pocket, she wasted no time in answering it.

 

As soon as she flipped it open, her daughter’s frantic voice cried, “Mom? Mommy, are you there?”

 

 _“Cassie!”_ Janet cried in relief. “Oh Cassie! Baby, where are you? Are you safe? Where’s Sam?”

 

“I’m safe, Mom,” her daughter replied calming down a bit. “And so is Sam, but she’s hit—and you know how she can’t take blood from anyone else. You need to bring enough of her blood for a transfusion right away.”

 

“Where are you?” Janet repeated, her heart racing again.

 

“At a place called the Sanctuary,” Cassie replied. “It’s a clinic on a big, private estate in Old City—”

 

“We know where the Sanctuary is,” Janet said nodding to Jack. “Are they responsible for this? Were they the ones—”

 

“Gods no, Mom!” her daughter cried cutting her off. “They’re absolutely _not_ responsible—they’re the ones helping us now, and it was one of their people who helped me and Sam to escape. Mom, I promise I’ll explain everything when you get here, but right now, Sam really needs you and she needs that transfusion. They experimented on her, Mom,” Cassie cried as Janet’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. “They shot her up with something and tortured her to try and turn her into a psychotic killer. The doctor, Helen, says that she can keep Sam stable, but she needs to operate soon to get the bullet out and stop the internal bleeding. However, she can’t until you bring Sam’s blood.”

 

“All right, baby, we’ll be there in a few minutes,” Janet choked out. “We’ll take care of her; I promise.”

 

“Okay, see you soon,” Cassie said after a deep breath. “Also, tell General Jack that you need to stay outside the fence around the estate and use the front gate. If you know about this place, then I think you already know that they have some mad defences, and if you try to force your way in, people are going to get hurt. Someone will meet you at the front gate and bring you inside, but you have to leave your weapons outside. Please, Mom, make sure _everyone_ understands.”

 

“Understood,” Janet replied. “We’ll be there soon.”

 

“Love you, Mom.”

 

“Love you too, Cassandra. Be safe.”

 

“I am, Mom, I really am.”

 

#


	13. Chapter 13

_“Whoa!”_

 

The voice coming out of the rain as they materialised, caused Janet to jump a little. On the other side of the wrought-iron gate, the slightly-built, scruffy-looking young man stared at them with undisguised awe and glee, while the young East Indian woman holding the large umbrella was a bit more subdued, but still looked suitably impressed.

 

“You must have some powerful teleporters to move that many people at once!” the young man said, his voice filled with admiration as the gate opened and they stepped out. _“Sweet!”_

 

Janet frowned at him uneasily, and she could see the same unease in O’Neill’s eyes as a second unit of marines were transported down via Asgard transporters. _Hammond’s_ sensors hadn’t detected any life sign readings near the landing zone, and these people accepted transporters far too easily. Furthermore, if Sam and Cassandra were here, it meant that these Sanctuary people had access to technology they shouldn’t have been privy to.

 

“Mitchell, you’re in charge,” O’Neill barked. “I want this place locked up tight—nothing in or out until I know what the _hell_ is going on around here.”

 

“Wait, you’re surrounding the Sanctuary?” the young man asked apprehensively.

 

“And you are?” O’Neill demanded.

 

“Henry Foss,” he replied stuffing his hands in his pockets. “The Sanctuary’s tech chief, and this is Kate Freelander—” he said angling his chin at the woman.

 

“You can say I’m a Sanctuary field agent,” she said with an impish grin, which reminded Janet rather uncomfortably of Vala.

 

“Look, I need to see my daughter and Colonel Carter,” Janet said impatiently.

 

“Of course, you must be Dr. Fraiser,” Kate Freelander replied more soberly, lifting her umbrella to include Janet under its protection. “Dr. Magnus asked us to bring you directly down to the surgery. General O’Neill, choose the group you want to accompany you and Dr. Fraiser—Cassandra mentioned that you’d have a special team—but make sure the rest of your people stay outside the estate’s perimeter fence.”

 

“Why?” O’Neill demanded.

 

“That’s for Magnus to tell you,” the young woman replied evenly and turned towards the house.

 

As Janet fell into step beside her, she heard Henry Foss say, “Believe me, General, it’s more for your protection than ours.”

 

“Hailey, you’re with me,” O’Neill barked to the young woman after a moment of silence; with Sam out of commission, the young lieutenant was the most knowledgeable about technology and Janet knew that Jack would want her to ferret what technology these people possessed and how they came to have it.

 

The mansion loomed against the backdrop of rain like something straight out of a Gothic Romance. Without stopping, Janet followed Kate through the foyer directly to the elevator. Both Sanctuary employees shared a look as the rest of the team squeezed in.

 

Teal’c carried one of Janet’s specially-designed machines, while Daniel, Vala and Janet’s most trusted nurse, Lisa Bowman, helped carry the rest of her kit.

 

Janet worried her bottom lip as the elevator began its descent; Cassandra had indicated that she was okay, but that Sam was in bad shape. She only hoped that she’d be able to reverse whatever had been done to Sam.

 

“So, how far down does this thing go?” Jack asked curiously.

 

“That’s for Magnus to tell you,” Kate Freelander repeated with a tight smile.

 

Jack glared at her, before a decided smirk came over his features. “Hailey?” he said.

 

There was a moment of silence as the young woman worked on her computer tablet. She looked up, her features displaying stunned consternation. “I’m sorry, sir,” she replied. “We’re being jammed somehow—I’m not getting any sensor data ... I can’t even access our secure ah ... downlink.”

 

 _“What!”_ Jack shouted in shock. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to access that channel from anywhere on the planet!”

 

“Yes sir,” she replied in confusion. “And I can’t get a cell signal either!”

 

Henry Foss chuckled softly. “Ah ... that would be my fault—just made some recent security upgrades,” he said. Jack glowered at him as the elevator doors opened and he scampered back, holding his hands up in supplication. “Hey, as soon as Magnus says that it’s okay, you’ll get your link back. I promise, but right now we’re sort of on lock-down.”

 

“Jack, enough!” Janet said storming past him.

 

 _Honestly, the man is worse than a child sometimes._ On the ship, he’d wasted precious time arguing with her over having to leave their weapons behind before entering the Sanctuary.

 

She literally skidded to a stop in front of the tall brunette waiting a few metres away. For a moment, Janet couldn’t catch her breath as she looked up into familiar blue eyes that held no recognition for her.

 

“Dr. Janet Fraiser, I presume,” the English-accented voice said as the woman held out her hand. “Dr. Helen Magnus.”

 

 _“Oh my God,”_ Janet whispered as she shook the woman’s hand numbly.

 

Helen Magnus arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow; a small smile tugged at her lips. “Yes, well that seems to be the reaction of the evening,” she said sardonically. “And before you ask, I have no idea why Samantha looks so much like me. Please, come along, Dr. Fraiser—let’s save her life first, and then perhaps afterwards we can find some answers to _all_ our questions.”

 

#


	14. Chapter 14

Jack watched as Cassandra shot off the stool positioned between the two occupied beds in Magnus’ infirmary, and barrelled towards her mother as Janet entered the room. Beyond the beds was another room separated by a glass wall.

 

He smiled as Janet caught her taller daughter and held her close, rubbing Cassandra’s back as the girl sobbed, and whispering soft reassurances.

 

But the peaceful reunion between mother and daughter was shattered by a blood-curdling scream, as the occupant of the bed next to Sam’s began struggling against the metal shackles that held her securely. Inhuman red eyes burned with pure malevolence in a porcelain-white face.

 

“What the hell!” Jack shouted, taking an involuntary step to put himself between Cassandra and Janet, and the violent young woman. If he’d had his gun, he would have shot her.

 

“Cassandra ... please ...” In Helen Magnus’ voice was a raw, heartbreaking plea; Jack didn’t know what to make of it.

 

Cassie pulled out of Janet’s embrace and dried her eyes. “Sorry, Dr. Magnus,” she said hoarsely and started back towards the young woman’s bed.

 

Janet caught her hand, naked fear plain on her face.

 

“Mom, it’s okay—she won’t hurt me,” Cassie said with a small smile and Janet let her go. “I lost control for a moment there, so she lost control too. I just need to get her calmed down again and back to sleep.”

 

Jack watched as the young woman lunged against her bonds, hissing and screaming an unholy sound at Cassandra. It took all of Jack’s self-control not to grab this girl he’d watched grow up and drag her away from those deadly claws and fangs the other girl sported.

 

 _“Monster, stop!”_ Cassandra commanded. Surprisingly, the young woman stopped struggling so much. “Shh ... enough ... that’s enough now; I’m not going anywhere.” Cassie sat back down on the stool and reached in to stroke the hair of the now whimpering young woman. “It’s all right, now, go back to sleep. That’s it ... that’s it ...” she said in a soothing, almost hypnotic voice. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere; I promise.”

 

The girl nuzzled her cheek into Cassandra’s palm, whimpering piteously like a wounded animal.

 

“What is going on?” Janet asked hoarsely. “Who is this?”

 

“My daughter ... Ashley,” Helen Magnus choked out, tears pouring down her face. A young man Jack hadn’t noticed before was suddenly at her side, his hand on her shoulder in a curious gesture of comfort. “This is what the Cabal did to her—what they were trying to do to Samantha because they mistook her for me, and what they probably intended to do to Cassandra had they got around to her.”

 

The blood drained from Janet’s face; her hand flew to her mouth in horror, and for a moment, she looked like she was about to faint.

 

“The Cabal?” Daniel croaked.

 

“An ancient society of very powerful people who believe that they have the right to dictate who should live and who should die in this world,” Magnus replied bitterly. “They shattered my daughter’s mind and violated her body—violated her very _being_ on a genetic level—in order to turn her into their idea of a super-soldier … a conscienceless killing machine. But during their escape, Ashley bonded with Cassandra, who is able to keep her under control.”

 

Complete silence greeted Dr. Magnus’ words and Jack’s heart went out to her.

 

 _Christ!_ he thought angrily as the utter depravity of what the girl had been subjected to sunk in.

 

“Please, Dr. Fraiser,” Magnus continued hoarsely as she visibly seemed to pull herself together. “Let’s get your equipment set up in the surgery and remove that bullet from Samantha as soon as possible. Then afterwards, perhaps you can explain exactly how Samantha’s physiology was altered and how her augmented immune system works—”

 

“Ah … I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Jack said cutting her off, knowing that the woman’s curiosity was about to encroach in areas she didn’t need to know. “It’s classified—”

 

“No, _you_ don’t understand!” Helen Magnus blazed. “Even as weak as she is, Samantha’s immune system is actively fighting the Source Blood and _destroying_ it—purging it from her body as if it is some kind of _infection_. If I can understand how she’s doing it, I can save my daughter! I can _reverse_ what the Cabal has done to her!” she cried desperately.

 

As if by some instinct, Janet put her arms around the distraught woman and held her close.

 

“Lisa,” she called to her nurse. “Take Murray and go set up the machine for surgery.”

 

The young man, who’d comforted Magnus earlier, silently ushered Teal’c and the nurse into the second room beyond the transparent observation window. Magnus pulled out of Janet’s embrace and stumbled over to check Sam’s vitals.

 

Janet turned her piercing gaze on Jack. “I suggest you call whoever you need to and _get_ that authorisation,” she said in that voice he knew would brook no opposition.

 

“Janet—” he began.

 

“Just do it, Jack!” she barked at him as Kate Freelander wheeled Sam’s bed into the surgery. “Damn it!” she said when he didn’t respond. “They’ve got EM shields, transporter technology—technology that can block our best if Hailey’s frantic tapping on her _damned_ computer is any indication! So, figure something out and just do it!”

 

She turned on her heel and followed Magnus out of the room.

 

A few minutes later, when they returned with Lisa Bowman scrubbed and ready for surgery, they entered the operating room via another set of doors. Meeting Janet’s gaze through the transparent window, Jack knew without a doubt that whether or not Magnus had the authorisation, Fraiser would tell her _exactly_ what she needed to know, classified or not. As the two doctors set to work on Sam, Jack heaved a sigh and met Cassandra’s steady gaze.

 

_Crap!_

 

“Hailey?”

 

“Still working on it, sir,” the young woman said anxiously, her face flushed with anger and frustration as she typed furiously on her machine.

 

Jack sighed; Jennifer Hailey was damned good, but she was no Samantha Carter. His gaze settled on Henry Foss again. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to get me a line to the Pentagon?” he said to the young man.

 

Foss chuckled. “Sure,” he said cockily. “Whose number do you want?”

 

Jack stared at him long and hard, uncertain whether to take him seriously. “What the heck,” he sighed again. “Get me Colonel Paul Davis.”

 

The kid whipped out a PDA from one of the numerous pockets on his cargo pants and proceeded to tap furiously on it. After a couple of minutes, he looked up, smile broadening a smug grin. “General _Dude_ —home, office or cell?” he asked, holding out the device to Jack.

 

“Give me that!” Jack said, snatching it from him. “Wiseass ...” he muttered.

 

#


	15. Chapter 15

Will Zimmerman watched as Cassandra Fraiser dozed, her head resting trustingly on General O’Neill’s shoulder as he sat in the chair beside her. Even in sleep, her hand automatically stroked Ashley’s hair.

 

After leaving the room to argue with his contact at the Pentagon, O’Neill had returned and tried to question the young woman. But she’d only laughed and told him to wait for Dr. Magnus’ explanations and that he’d _“find the Sanctuary almost as extraordinary as the SGC.”_

 

O’Neill’s eyes had widened in surprise at that remark, as had his companions’, but he hadn’t pressed her any further. That this general in the United States Air Force trusted the word of such a young woman, said a lot for them and their relationship, Will thought. But then again, Cassandra and her _‘General Jack’_ were family.

 

Will looked out the room’s window to the observation room diagonally across the foyer and one level above. Although he couldn’t see him, he knew that the Big Guy was watching everything on the surveillance monitor in the room.

 

It was Cassandra who had suggested that they keep Sanctuary’s residents and their true nature under wraps until Samantha Carter was out of the woods and things calmed down. Then they could sit down and discuss things from a _“position of trust”_ between the two groups.

 

#

 

 _“General Jack and SG-1 ... even my Mom will be out for blood, Dr. Magnus,”_ Cassie had said anxiously as they waited for Cassandra’s mother and General O’Neill’s team to arrive. _“Especially since Sam was targeted by_ your _enemies and I got caught in the crossfire. We’ll need to defuse the situation as quickly as possible. And given the things my rather unique family deals with, a Gothic mansion full of beings ... mythological creatures that aren’t supposed to exist, isn’t going to help the situation—at least not at first.”_

 

 _“And just what things does your_ unique _family deal with?”_ Magnus demanded.

 

The girl chuckled softly before answering, _“Sorry, that’s classified, ma’am.”_

 

 _“If it’s classified, then how do_ you _know about it?”_ Declan really didn’t like this girl, Will realised then.

 

Her chuckles became full-blown laughter. _“Because, Mr. McCrae,_ I’m _classified,”_ she replied sweetly to everyone’s shock. _“In fact, I’m so classified that just knowing I exist beyond this_ little, blonde, airhead-schoolgirl _could be considered grounds for treason.”_

 

 _“Stay out of my head!”_ Declan shouted.

 

 _“Then stop projecting all your_ fucking _thoughts and insecurities at me!”_ she snarled furiously. _“You don’t like me, fine. But either get yourself under control or get the hell out of my sight!”_

 

She smirked as Declan paled significantly. _“That way, you can be relatively sure I’ll stay_ out _of your head.”_

 

 _“Relatively sure?”_ Will had asked curiously.

 

Cassandra shrugged and turned her attention back to Ashley. _“Contrary to what Mr. McCrae thinks, Dr. Zimmerman, I don’t make it a habit of reading people’s minds,”_ she replied. _“And other than surface or projected glimpses I get, unless I’m in danger, I’ve always asked permission. My mothers raised me well,”_ she continued with a proud tilt of her chin. _“With them, I am always welcome, as I am with the rest of my family. They trust me and I have_ never _broken that trust … I don’t read them or enter their thoughts without permission, except in an emergency. I also have very good shields. Believe me; I have enough of my own baggage to deal with without deliberately taking on other people’s crap. But I do have a range at which I can sense people—especially those I’m acquainted with … not to mention those I am close to.”_

 

A short, stunned silence blanketed the room then before Helen asked hoarsely, _“Is this an ability you were born with?”_

 

 _“I’m afraid that even if it wasn’t classified, it would be a complicated question to answer,”_ the girl replied. _“All I can say is that the potential was always there, but not the ability.”_

 

_“I see.”_

 

The girl stared at Magnus for a long moment; Will wondered what silent communication passed between them.

 

 _“I believe you do understand, Dr. Magnus,”_ Cassie continued softly. _“And what you’ve built here is nothing short of extraordinary. I didn’t have an inkling that any of this existed, although I now understand that I have been picking up random bits and pieces out there. I suppose a large part of it is my upbringing—beyond the myths and legends, my family doesn’t know any of this exists, so it’s not surprising that I don’t either, but with so many in one place ...”_

 

She laughed again and shook her head. _“Mermaids, Sasquatch—Werewolves!”_ she said, catching Will by surprise with her absolute, unadulterated glee. _“My mother and Daniel are going to bombard you with questions—Mom about their biology and Daniel will want to know everything about their history, cultures, languages ... everything! And General Jack is going to be cool with it once he gets over the initial shock—and who knows? You might even get questions in full sentences out of T—Murray! Vala and Cameron will be pretty cool as well, if the General brings them in, but Sam ... Sam is going to absolutely flip out of the stratosphere when she wakes up!”_ she said looking fondly at the blonde woman. _“I mean, once she gets over the fact of how much you two look alike, Dr. Magnus.”_

 

 _“Why would Sam flip out?”_ Magnus’ bemusement with the girl was palpable.

 

_“Because Sam has what my mother likes to call a hyper-rational mind—no matter how many strange and miraculous things she’s seen, she always looks for the scientific explanation first—even if the impossibility is standing right in front of her. Now, you tell my Mom that Fairies exist and put one in front of her, she’ll accept it right away—be like “of course Fairies exist”—and ask about their biology, psychology ... maybe want to autopsy a dead one. But Sam, she’ll need to figure out how tiny little humanoid beings with butterfly wings could possibly have come to exist, the physics behind their ability to fly, and you might even get cladistic analysis of Fairy evolution out of it.”_

 

 _“Sorry, but Magnus has already done the definitive analysis on Fairy evolution,”_ Will couldn’t help but quip and Cassie giggled hysterically.

 

_“But once Sam’s found an explanation—or even just a toe-hold in science—then she’s back in her comfort zone, and you’d be surprised at how fast and far she’ll take your theories once her that big brain of hers starts clicking over.”_

 

It was Henry’s turn to indulge his curiosity. _“Now, what does that mean?”_

 

Cassie grinned at him. _“I mean that Sam’s a mathematician, a theoretical physicist—astrophysics specifically—an engineer, a computer scientist, and a whole bundle of other “ists” she just never bothered getting formal degrees for.”_

 

 _“So, she’s pretty much a geeky version of Magnus—physics and math instead of medicine, and minus the guns and the crazy stunts,”_ Henry laughed as Helen shot him a dark look.

 

Cassie glanced at Magnus and then laughed uproariously. _“Henry, Sam’s a decorated Air Force Colonel—you don’t get the kinds of ribbons and medals she’s got without being a frontline soldier,”_ she said after a deep breath. _“She’s also a Top Gun pilot with the call-sign, Stratos—clocked over a hundred hours flying missions during the Gulf War; she can pretty much pilot anything with wings. She’s an expert markswoman, has three motorcycles—all of which she likes to ride at insane speeds. Crazy stunts? Let’s just say, General Jack—and now Cameron or Vala—are the ones her team usually turn to when they need crazy stunts, but Sam’s the one they turn to when they need certifiably bat-shit insane stunts that break_ all _the laws of physics.”_

 

 _“So, she’s scary smart exactly like Magnus,”_ Henry said in a voice that sobered Cassie up immediately as all eyes turned to Helen Magnus.

 

_“Oh yeah, and it’s freaking me out to no end. And here I thought Earth couldn’t survive with two Sam Carters—that the overload from that much brain power would implode the planet. Are you sure you weren’t adopted?”_

 

 _“Quite sure,”_ Helen replied curtly, lips pressed in a thin line.

 

_“And you didn’t have a twin that maybe got separated at birth—or a sister your parents never got around to telling you about?”_

 

_“I’m quite sure—I have no siblings. My mother died in childbirth when I was eight years old—my baby brother was born over two months premature at a time when medical knowledge was … inadequate to cope with such a situation. He followed her to the grave three days later, despite my father’s best efforts to save him. So, I’ve always been an only child. And if you were to see a picture of my mother, you’d know that physically, I take after her and she didn’t have any siblings either.”_

 

Will saw his shocked stare mirrored in his colleagues’ faces; this was the most Magnus had ever willingly revealed about her past—especially her childhood.

 

Cassandra studied Magnus speculatively with a puzzled frown before continuing. _“Anyway, from what I’ve seen of your surface thought processes, Dr. Magnus—that is when you’re not upset—they’re a lot like Sam’s; very ordered, analytical and probably scarily efficient at making connections between very disparate things when you’re concentrating on a field you know. And given that Mom says that Sam’s a damned good biologist when she puts her mind to it, I dare say that you’re probably pretty good at math and physics when you put your mind to it.”_

 

 _“I have been known to dabble every now and then when I’ve needed to,”_ Magnus replied cryptically, which made Cassie chuckle softly again.

 

_“I just bet you have, Dr. Magnus, I just bet you have.”_

 

#


	16. Chapter 16

Will watched now as Cassie jolted awake, but her hand didn’t stop gently stroking Ashley’s hair.  She rose from her chair and slid her free hand into Ashley’s as she lowered her head to whisper in the other girl’s ear.

 

“That’s it, sweetie … it’s all right … it’s safe … it’s safe to come out …”

 

The look on Cassandra’s face drew Will’s attention and held it. It reminded him of someone, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember who and it niggled at him as she continued her soft encouragement. He knew that he should be able to figure it out, but it was like a word on the tip of his tongue that eluded him, try as he might to remember.

 

_“Mommy?”_

 

It took him a moment to realise that the soft cry had come from Ashley. And then Will remembered who Cassandra reminded him of— _his mother_. He remembered how she would sit on his bed when he was a little boy and soothe him after a nightmare, most likely because he’d watched a scary movie even after she’d told him not to. But her soft voice had always chased the monsters from his dreams, until that fateful day when a real monster came for them and her lovely voice was no defence.

 

Will shuddered, forcing the memory back into the dark recesses of his mind.

 

“No, it’s Cassie, Ash,” the girl replied. “Remember? But your Mommy is close and she’ll be here soon.”

 

“Promise?” Ashley said in a soft, child-like lisp.

 

“I promise, Ash,” Cassie assured her.

 

“Cross your heart?” Ashley’s beautiful face was guileless … angelic … with no trace of her vampiric nature visible.

 

Cassie solemnly made the sign of the cross over her heart. “Cross my heart,” she replied.

 

“And then Mommy and me will have tea and cake,” she said happily. “I like cake—and Henry!  He likes cake too!”

 

A sudden, startled cry drew Will’s gaze to Helen Magnus’ stricken face as she stood trembling on the threshold, tears raining down her face.

 

Cassandra straightened up and moved out of Ashley’s line of sight. “Dr. Magnus,” she said softly. “Look, _Ash_ is awake.”

 

 _“Mommy!”_ Ashley squealed with the unadulterated joy of a five-year-old, holding her hands out to her mother.

 

“Ash,” Magnus croaked out, smiling through her tears as she ran over to the bed.

 

“Where were you?” she asked plaintively as Helen kissed her cheeks and face repeatedly. “You weren’t here when I woked up and I haven’t seen you in so long, Mommy.”

 

“I’m sorry, baby, but I had a surgery to do—” Helen began hoarsely.

 

“To help somebody and make them better?” Ashley asked.

 

“Yes, my darling,” she replied, stroking her daughter’s hair and placing another gentle kiss on her forehead. “But I’m here now ... Mommy’s here now.”

 

The girl struggled a bit against her bonds. “Why can’t I move my arms and legs?” she asked her mother in confusion.

 

Magnus bit her lip and met Cassandra’s panicked gaze. Taking a deep breath, she answered, “You were hurt, dearest, so you mustn’t try to move around so much. You must try to keep very still, so we put the bracelets on your arms and legs so you wouldn’t be able to move.”

 

The girl lifted her head to look down at her body. “Where was I hurt, Mommy? I don’t see any _owies_ and I don’t feel hurt.”

 

“You were hurt on the inside, sweetheart,” Helen said hoarsely. “I’ve given you some medicine so you wouldn’t feel it, but I need you to keep very still and not move around—okay?”

 

“Okay,” she replied, smiling trustingly up at her mother now; Will found it interesting that she didn’t ask how or why she’d been hurt, but trusted her mother’s word that she had been. “I’ll pretend it’s like when Henry had the chicken pox and you put the special mittens on him so he wouldn’t itch his _owies_ —and you put the bracelets on his hands and legs too.”

 

General O’Neill’s gaze narrowed as he focused all his attention on Magnus. Will saw the questions clicking over in his mind ... questions like why Henry would have had to be restrained as a child after contracting chicken pox. But Will realised that as an Abnormal, Henry may have reacted in an atypical way to the usually harmless childhood disease.

 

“It’s exactly like that my smart, beautiful, brave little girl,” Magnus whispered, oblivious to everything but Ashley. “Just like Henry when he had the chicken pox.”

 

“And you let me put _cammamine_ lotion on his spots—do I need _cammamine_ lotion for my inside _owies_? ’Cause I’d have to drink it to get it inside me and it don’t taste so good,” she said with a definite expression of disgust.

 

A ripple of snickers and sudden spate of coughing filled the room.

 

“No, my Silly-Billy girl,” Helen chuckled. “ _Calamine_ lotion is only for outside _owies_ —not for drinking,” she said tapping her daughter’s nose. “You’ll get different medicine.”

 

“You mean like in a needle?” she asked in a small voice.

 

“Yes, Ash,” her mother said honestly. “I’m afraid I will have to use needles, but I promise I won’t use them any more than necessary—all right?”

 

“Okay,” she agreed trustingly. “Can Henry help give me my needles? Where is Henry anyway?” she demanded, scanning the room and looking past her old playmate without any shred of recognition for the young man standing expectantly at the foot of her bed. “How come he and Big Guy haven’t come to visit me—but there are all these people here?”

 

Magnus’ gaze flicked to Henry’s sorrowful face. Will read the apology in her expressive blue eyes and the young man nodded almost imperceptibly, his shoulders hunched further as his hands dug deeper into his pockets.

 

“Henry had to go to school, sweetheart, you know that,” she chided hoarsely. “And the Big Guy had some errands to run, but I’m sure you’ll see them both later.”

 

“But that means Henry will be gone all day!” she complained, pouting prettily. “Couldn’t you just send a car for him—tell his teacher that she _has_ to send him home early because there was a great, big emergency? Like when Mama Akande and her daughters came to visit because Amari and Anaka got stuck inside her and you had to help get them out—remember?”

 

“Yes, I remember,” Helen replied. “But that would be dishonest, don’t you think?”

 

“I guess so,” she admitted despondently. She yawned and snuggled in closer to her mother; as close as she could get with the shackles on.

 

“Why don’t you take a nap now, my darling?” Helen continued, stroking her hair gently. “And when you wake up, if your tummy is still feeling up to it, you can have some soup. Would you like that?”

 

“Mmm … with cheesy crackers?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Will you sing to me, Mommy?” she asked tiredly, yawning again. “And then later, we can sing Henry’s songs.”

 

Helen bit her lip and there was a long moment of silence before she drew a shuddering breath. “What would you like me to sing for you, dearest,” she husked.

 

 _“When I was sick and lay a-bed,”_ Ashley said. “It always helps me get better fast—then I can play Henry’s songs with him when he gets home from school.”

 

_When I was sick and lay a-bed,_

_I had two pillows at my head,_

_And all my toys beside me lay,_

_To keep me happy all the day …_

(Robert Louis Stevenson, _A Child's Garden of Verses_ , "The Land of Counterpane")

 

As Helen sang the old lullaby in a surprisingly powerful and lovely soprano, Janet Fraiser ushered everyone out but Henry, Cassandra and Lisa Bowman, who was getting Samantha Carter settled among an array of diagnostic and monitoring devices.

 

To Will’s chagrin, not only did General O’Neill and his team leave, but the Sanctuary team had automatically followed the diminutive doctor’s orders without question. It was only after he found himself in the foyer outside the infirmary staring at Kate and Declan—who looked equally confused—that he realised what had happened.

 

General O’Neill smirked as he noticed their confusion. “Don’t even try to understand how she does it, kids,” he said with a chuckle. “Our little Napoleonic power-monger has been bossing us around for more than a decade, and _we_ haven’t figured it out yet.”

 

_“I heard that, Jack.”_

 

O’Neill literally blanched at the silky voice that managed to convey warmth and humour and an unambiguous threat all at the same time.

 

 _“Doh!”_ he said as Daniel Jackson and the rest of his team snickered, not even trying to hide their amusement.

 

#


	17. Chapter 17

Helen sat at Ashley’s bedside sipping a cup of tea. Henry, thoughtful boy that he was, had gone into her study and brought her favourite armchair down, while Kate and Will had fetched a pot of strong tea for her and coffee for their guests.

 

Ashley was asleep, her face radiating a peacefulness Helen hadn’t seen in it since her daughter was a young child.

 

 _That is what she is right now,_ her conscience prodded her, _a child_. A child who no longer recognised Henry, her oldest friend and playmate—the one person who, in some ways, knew her better than her mother ever would.

 

Helen had seen the devastation in the young man’s eyes when he realised that Ashley didn’t recognise him. And although she feared that the self-reliant, vivacious, _sarcastic_ young woman she’d raised might be lost forever, at least she, Helen—with her immortal, unchanging face—still had some context in Ashley’s child-self’s world … at least she had that to hold on to. She was _Mommy_. She would always be _Mommy_.

 

Henry, as a young man, had no such context. Ashley … _Ash_ would be looking for the boy she’d known when she was five years old, and Helen was at a loss regarding how she would explain it to her if her daughter was stuck like this—a child in a woman’s body.

 

_As if Ashley and Henry’s relationship wasn’t already complicated enough._

 

Over the years, Helen had watched them grow—first as playmates and best friends getting into all manner of trouble ... with Ashley usually being the instigator. Then Henry had hit puberty, and though there were still undeniable feelings between them, it was more the affection of an older brother for his little sister. He’d tended to be a loner, but through his hobbies and love of technology and music, he’d found his own circle of friends and acquaintances both inside and outside the Sanctuary Network. And as Ashley had passed from girlhood to adolescence, she had done the same.

 

Though she was categorically not a _girly-girl_ , as she was wont to put it, Ashley still had two or three girlfriends outside the Abnormal community whom she could meet for drinks or go clubbing with on her rare off-times, as well her share of boyfriends, who tended to appeal to her wilder side, much to Helen’s chagrin. But somewhere along the way, working together in the last few years, Ashley and Henry come full circle and become best friends again, with a new, _adult_ understanding between them.

 

However, before Ashley’s abduction by the Cabal, Helen had got the feeling that Henry and her daughter were just beginning to see each other as something more than just friends and colleagues. And although delighted with this new development, Helen had been careful not to push or even say anything. She’d always respected her daughter’s right to choose her own friends and lovers, and loving them both, she’d been leery of attempting any sort of matchmaking—especially with Henry’s heart already committed to another woman … and a _married_ one at that.

 

But Helen had to admit, she’d been rather pleased at the thought of Ashley and Henry together.

 

_“Hey, how are you doing?”_

 

Janet Fraiser’s honey-warm voice drew Helen from her thoughts and she found that she’d been sitting frozen, teacup poised halfway between the saucer and her lips as she stared off into space. The younger doctor’s small, slender fingers brushed against hers as she rescued the teacup and kept it from spilling in Helen’s lap.

 

“Sorry,” she croaked, her throat raspy for some reason. “I just got lost for a moment there.”

 

Chocolate brown eyes smiled gently at her. “That’s understandable under the circumstances,” Fraiser said, pulling up a folding chair to sit opposite her. She placed a manila folder on the card table next to Helen’s tea service. “It looked like a good memory.”

 

Helen smiled. “Not so much a memory, as it is all those hopes and dreams a mother has for her child.”

 

The younger woman’s gaze was automatically drawn to her own daughter, asleep in the bed on the other side of the one Ashley occupied. Her fond smile softened her delicate features even more, but as her gaze flicked just beyond Cassandra’s bed to Samantha Carter’s, the love in her eyes was undeniable.

 

Helen wondered, not for the first time in the few, short hours she’d known them, about the relationship between her younger look-alike and Janet Fraiser. According to Cassandra, they were both her mothers ... her family, but how deep that connection was beyond unofficially co-parenting a young girl intrigued Helen. The Air Force—indeed the entire United States military—wasn’t exactly known for its _enlightened_ view of same sex relationships, although that seemed to finally be changing.

 

“As I said, understandable,” Fraiser murmured. Her eyes were more … _calculating_ as she considered Helen once more. Helen didn’t sense anything untoward about the other doctor’s demeanour, only that she seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something. A moment later, there was no doubt in Janet Fraiser’s gaze.

 

“Dr. Magnus—”

 

“Helen.”

 

Fraiser smiled again. “Helen,” she acknowledged. “And you can call me Janet,” she invited and Helen nodded. “Helen, if I asked you to trust me to begin a preliminary treatment of Ashley, without a full discussion of what I was doing, would you be able to?” she asked.

 

Silence stretched taut between them. _Trust_. Could she afford to trust this woman? Could she afford _not_ to.

 

“Jack will have put a priority request through for you to get clearance, but it may take a few days to come through,” Janet explained quietly. “Meanwhile, there is something I can do to prepare Ashley’s immune system to—”

 

_“Yes.”_

 

The word burst from her in an almost involuntary gasp.  “What do you need?” she asked breathlessly. “What do you need me to do?”

 

“First, I need to know everything I can about this _Source Blood_ ,” Janet replied, pulling an array of micrographs from the folder. “From my cursory analysis, it seems to be some kind of colonial parasite.”

 

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Helen said nodding in agreement as she looked at a micrograph of a Source Blood cell. “I’ve found it to be closer to a primordial plasmodium-like organism in nature. Where did you get these?” she asked, marvelling at the remarkable clarity of the images.

 

“It’s classified, but Sam’s blood analyser can do much more than act like a simple dialysis or transfusion machine,” she replied, eyes twinkling. “Those are Source Blood cells from your daughter’s blood sample.” Handing to Helen a new set of micrographs, she continued, “These are Source Blood cells from Sam’s blood sample—notice anything?”

 

Helen’s breath caught as she studied the remarkable photographs. “The membrane channels are blocked by some sort of globular protein. That would effectively disrupt any normal transport functions across the cell membrane, eventually killing the cells themselves—and are those organo-metalloid residues?” she asked, peering closely at the protein structure in confusion. “It doesn’t appear to be related to haemoglobin or any metal-based proteins I’m acquainted with.”

 

“It wouldn’t be,” Janet said drily. “But those proteins are part of what Sam’s immune system is using to fight off this Source Blood parasite,” she said as Helen stared at her in shock. “Let’s just say that ever since the incident that changed her, Sam’s body doesn’t take kindly to invaders trying to set up shop.”

 

“And you can replicate this effect in Ashley?” Helen said breathlessly, hope pounding in her chest.

 

“Not quite, but something close I hope,” Janet replied taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Related to what happened to Sam, we came upon a drug, which in certain … altered physiologies, can act as an immune system co-factor ... an enhancer, if you will, that acts in a unique way on the human immune system and cellular repair machinery. In recent years, I’ve tailored it to boost a compromised immune system without further compromising it. I have a quantity of the drug available—just in case this was something Sam’s already enhanced system couldn’t fight. But first, I need to examine Ashley’s medical record—get a handle on what way she’s been altered and if it can be helped by using the drug.”

 

Janet smiled at her again and drew a syringe containing a few millilitres of a white fluid from her pocket. Helen’s heart constricted with painful hope as she stared at the syringe in the younger woman’s hand.

 

“I have all Ashley’s medical records from babyhood,” she said eagerly as she rose and hurried over to the room’s computer workstation, Janet following close behind. “Thanks to Henry, it’s all kept up to date on our network.” Suddenly she looked up from her frantic typing and asked, “Could you use samples of her unadulterated blood?”

 

She started to rise again, but Janet stopped her with one gentle hand. “Slow down, Helen,” she said quietly. “Samples of her blood would be a great help in studying the way her living tissue would react with the drug and other elements from Sam’s system, but let’s start with comparing her records from before and after she was taken. Once I see what I’m looking for, perhaps then we can start some preliminary tests—make sure it won’t have an adverse effect on Ashley’s physiology.

 

“As well, Cassie indicated that you were also infected with the Source Blood at some point,” Janet continued quietly, holding Helen’s gaze. “She suggested that you may have been changed in some way, yet you don’t seem to have been affected by it the same way your daughter was.”

 

“I see,” she replied, making up her mind about the other doctor. “Tell me; how does Samantha’s fundamental physiology hold up to this drug of yours?” she asked as Janet stared at her in confusion at the sudden change of subject.

 

“Quite well,” the younger woman admitted after a moment.

 

“Would you say that even before this _incident_ that altered her physiology, she still would have held up quite well?” Helen persisted.

 

“I don’t have any empirical proof—we discovered the drug after she was changed—but yes, I think so. Sam’s always had a rather naturally robust immune system. Where are you going with this?”

 

Helen turned back to her computer and began to rapidly compile a number of files. Janet recognized the data that flashed up onto the screen—genetic mapping data.

 

“This is a partial genetic map for Ashley,” Helen began. “And this one is mine for the same gene loci,” she said bringing up a second map and super-imposing it over the first. “As expected, Ashley and I share fifty percent of our genes.” A third partial map flashed up on the screen. “This is the result of a quick and dirty map I’ve had running for Samantha since she was brought in,” she said holding Janet’s gaze and reaching out to grab her hand as she took an involuntary step backwards. “Let’s just say I couldn’t take it on faith that it is simple _coincidence_ we would look so much alike.

 

“I have a more detailed one running, but it will take some time to complete. However, according to this map,” Helen continued, manipulating the data so that her personal map overlaid Sam’s, “Samantha and I share approximately _eighty_ percent of our genes—possibly more ... possibly a great deal _more_.”

 

Janet gasped, reeling from the shock as she looked from Helen Magnus to the genetic maps to Samantha and then back again. “That means that Samantha Carter is genetically closer to me than my own _daughter_ ,” Helen said harshly. “Closer than a sister—had I ever had a sister—would have been, except perhaps if I’d had an identical twin …”

 

And just as Janet’s mind latched onto that explanation as a viable possibility— _sisters, twins even, separated at a very young age would explain it_ —Helen Magnus dropped her final bombshell and spoke the unspeakable …

 

“Or a _clone_.”

 

_“What!”_

 

#


	18. Chapter 18

It was a long moment before Janet realised that the strangled gasp didn’t come from her own throat, but from Sam, who was struggling to sit up in her bed.

 

Shooting Magnus a venomous glare, Janet hissed, “You’re crazy,” and hurried over to Sam’s bedside, returning the syringe to her lab coat pocket.

 

“Janet, what the _hell_ is going on?” Sam rasped out. “Who is this?”

 

Janet silently cursed the other woman’s intolerance for most sedatives and anaesthetics—and her body’s ability to quickly build up immunity to those she could tolerate. On the dose she’d given Sam, most people would be out for at least another four to six hours—not be awake after barely two.

 

“It’s all right, Sam,” Janet said soothingly as she forced her to lie down again, and helped her moisten her mouth with a spoonful of ice chips. “This is Dr. Helen Magnus; she runs the Sanctuary—that’s the facility you’re at right now. Somehow, her people transported her daughter, Ashley, Cassandra and you out of the building where your kidnappers had been holding you.”

 

 “They didn’t transport us, Janet,” she said staring fixedly at Helen Magnus, who now stood at the foot of her bed.

 

“What do you mean, Sam?” Janet said in confusion. “Of course, they transported you—Hailey detected its trace—”

 

Sam shook her head, still holding Magnus’ gaze. “No Janet, they don’t have transporter technology—”

 

“Then how did they get you here?”

 

“ _They_ didn’t—her daughter, Ashley, has the ability to _teleport_ matter from one place to another,” Sam said hoarsely.

 

 _“What?”_ It was Janet’s turn to shout in shock.

 

“Samantha is entirely correct, Janet,” Magnus said; her voice level, almost impassive as she held Sam’s gaze. “It is a talent Ashley inherited from her father.”

 

“What is her range?” Sam asked Magnus, startling Janet because she knew that tone of voice very well; weak as she was, Sam’s insatiable scientific curiosity was rearing its head.

 

“I have not yet had a chance to test her abilities,” Helen replied in the identical tone of voice. “But her father can send himself from here to London in the time it takes you to blink.”

 

“That’s why they kidnapped Ashley, Mom—” Janet spun to face her daughter as she spoke, sitting up in bed and wiping the sleep from her eyes. “It’s part of the reason why they exposed her to the Source Blood—to activate whatever latent traits she inherited from her parents. They were trying to create an army of super-soldiers like her, but the others were weaker than Ashley for some reason … they burnt out—mind and body—but Ashley didn’t.”

 

Cassandra hopped off the bed and crossed quickly to Sam’s side. Leaning in, she pulled her second mother into a gentle hug.

 

“How are you doing, kiddo?” Sam asked tenderly cupping her face. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

 

“No, I’m fine,” she replied, eyes brimming with tears. “Everything went just like we planned—up until you got yourself shot! Don’t _ever_ do that to me again, Sam.”

 

Sam pulled her into another tender hug. “I’ll try not to, sweetheart,” she said. “I promise.”

 

Over Cassandra’s shoulder, Sam met Janet’s gaze with a small, bittersweet smile; it was the only promise Sam had learned to make to Cassandra— _the promise to try_. There were no absolutes in their line of work.

 

“You’re very brave, Cassandra,” she said kissing their daughter’s temple. “You’re very brave.” Cassandra rested her forehead against Sam’s for a moment before straightening up.

 

Just then, Jack poked his head in the door. “Hey Carter!” he said with obvious relief. “I thought I heard your voice.”

 

“Hi sir,” Sam said smiling, which gave way to a small grimace as she tried to sit up.

 

“As you were, soldier,” O’Neill said gently as the rest of SG-1 filed into the infirmary followed closely by Magnus’ people.

 

“God Sam,” Daniel said pushing past O’Neill to get to her bedside. “Should you even be awake?”

 

Sam grinned as he pecked her cheek. “You know me and drugs, Daniel,” she chuckled softly.

 

“Yeah,” Daniel replied ruefully as he stepped back.

 

“SamanthaCarter, it is good to see you are healing well,” Teal’c said formally with his characteristic bow.

 

“Thanks, T—ah, it looks like we’ll have to postpone our next ballroom dancing lesson though,” she said, quickly covering her near slip with one of their old jokes.

 

“Indeed,” the big man replied with another nod.

 

“Well now that you’re confined to bed, at least you won’t have any excuses _not_ to watch the _Resident Evil_ zombie apocalypse series with me,” Vala said leaning in to give Sam an enthusiastic hug.

 

Sam groaned, whether from pain of being jostled or the prospect of being subjected to those horror movies, Janet didn’t know, but they all laughed as the tension in the room broke.

 

Curiously, Helen Magnus was the one person who tensed up as everyone relaxed at Vala’s joke. In fact, since Jack and SG-1 had entered the room, Janet had watched out the corner of her eye as the Sanctuary’s leader tried to unobtrusively inch her way over to Will Zimmerman who was standing near the door.

 

“Yes, well that will have to wait, Vala,” Sam said in an uncharacteristically hard voice as she fixed Magnus with an angry stare. “Until Dr. Magnus sees fit to explain why she thinks I’m a _clone_ of her—and why she has _a virtual clone of my brother_ standing next to her!”

 

For a moment, in the utter stillness, it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. The two women stared at each other; Helen Magnus’ confused face drained white, while Sam’s face flushed an angry red.

 

As Jack shouted, _“What!”_ Janet found she could suddenly breathe again.

 

“Oh my God,” Cassie said in shock. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

 

“Understandable Cassie, you were just twelve,” Sam said grimly as her team turned to stare at Magnus and her people. “You only met Mark that one time and he wasn’t terribly nice to you.”

 

Janet remembered that incident well—how angry Sam had been that her brother refused to accept Cassie as part of their family, yet he’d demanded that Sam pay more attention to his children … _“her real family,”_ as he’d put it. It had created an even greater rift between Sam and Mark that Janet regretted. She knew how much Sam loved her niece and nephew and how much it hurt her when Mark pulled away again because of Sam’s relationship with Janet and Cassie.

 

“You think that I look like your brother?” Will Zimmerman croaked in disbelief. “I can assure you—”

 

“Not you … him,” Sam said pointing to Declan McCrae, standing just behind Kate Freelander on the other side of Magnus.

 

“Declan?” Helen Magnus turned to look at her colleague, seemingly as confused as everyone else. “ _Declan_ looks like your _brother_?” she said hoarsely.

 

“About five—ten years younger,” Sam replied angrily. “And he’s managed to hang onto his hair, but yes, he looks like my brother, Mark.”

 

 _“What utter rot!”_ the man in question exploded. “What the bloody _hell_ are you trying to pull?”

 

As Sam opened her mouth to retort, Ashley Magnus woke up and began to scream. Cassandra stiffened, before hurrying over to the other young woman’s bedside. As she began to gently soothe the screaming girl, Sam’s eyes widened in shock.

 

 _“Ashley,”_ she whispered looking at Helen Magnus’ tearful face as the woman gazed helplessly at her daughter. Compassion broke over Sam’s face, banishing her anger of just moments before, and then her eyes widened in shock.

 

 _“Cassie!”_ Sam said with new urgency in her voice; Janet stared at her in surprise. “Sweetheart, take her back—back to Huntress in the library. Then close the portal and let them be.”

 

“B-but _Sam_ —” Cassie whimpered and Janet looked from one tear-stained face to the other, trying desperately to decipher the subtext between them.

 

“Do it, Cassandra!” Sam ordered, cutting her off ruthlessly. “You were only supposed to hold her reins until we escaped. She’s shredding you from the inside-out and your control is slipping!”

 

 _“Oh God, Cassandra!”_ Janet shouted, panicked as she stared at her daughter in absolute horror. Sam caught her wrist in a vice-like grip, keeping her from rushing to Cassandra’s side.

 

“She belongs with Huntress and Ash, Cassandra,” Sam said over their daughter’s quiet sobbing. “If _Ashley Magnus_ is to ever come out of that place with any semblance of her sanity in tact, it has to be due to their actions … _they_ must work together to free her and _she_ must work to integrate them. You’re not a part of them, Cassie, and they’re not part of you. You can’t do this for her—you can’t take on all her pain. Put Monster back and leave Ashley’s mind. Do it _now_ , Cassandra!” Sam commanded.

 

Janet watched her daughter’s heart break as she whispered, “I’m sorry ... I’m sorry,” over and over to Ashley Magnus, before letting go of the girl and stumbling away from the bed.

 

Sam released Janet. “Go,” she said hoarsely and Janet fled to her distraught daughter’s side, just in time to catch her as she began to collapse. And then Teal’c was there, relieving her of Cassie’s weight, as Jack pulled a chair over and helped her into it. Teal’c then placed her child in her lap. Cassie curled into her, sobbing brokenly.

 

“It’s alright, baby,” Janet said as her heart began to slow its pounding—and then she felt it; the flutter of a wounded, broken _thing_ brushing against her mind. Without hesitation, she opened the window and welcomed it in. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

 

Then the keening cries began, before the body of the other young woman started to convulse wildly, straining at the bonds that shackled her to the bed.

 

 _“What have you done?”_ Janet heard Helen Magnus scream as she rushed to _her_ daughter’s side. “What have you done?”

 

“Only what needed to be done!” Sam retorted. “Now _you_ need to do what needs to be done, Dr. Magnus. What would you do for a convulsive patient?”

 

 _“Ashley? Ashley!”_ Magnus cried wildly; Janet instinctively clutched Cassie closer to her, feeling her daughter stiffen against the emotional onslaught.

 

“Do your duty, Dr. Magnus!” Sam’s voice whip-cracked through the room with a power that belied her condition; she grimaced in pain, tears slipping down her face. “Attend your patient!” she ground out, snapping Magnus out of her immobility.

 

For the next few minutes, there was a flurry of activity as Helen Magnus and Will Zimmerman worked frantically to stop Ashley’s convulsions. Finally, the activity stopped, and all Janet could hear was Helen’s sobbing as she held her daughter’s still body.

 

“ _Your_ daughter was harming mine, Dr. Magnus,” Sam whispered hoarsely. “And Cassandra was allowing her to because once she’d become so closely bound to her, she couldn’t help but take on her pain as well. In addition to being a telepath, Cassie is a powerful _empath_ —”

 

“And left to her own devices, she would take on all the pain of the entire world if she could,” Helen finished hoarsely.

 

“Yes,” Sam replied. “She dropped her guard and let Ashley get in too close—she was losing her sense of self and had to be forced to let go before the strain of Ashley’s psychic onslaught damaged _her_ mind.”

 

“And what about _Ashley_?” Helen begged tearfully.

 

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted; her voice was full of regret. “Perhaps once you and Janet have figured out how to reverse her changes, or mitigate them in some way—perhaps taking the strain off her body may help take the strain off her mind as well … allow her various personas to reintegrate.”

 

Her only response was Helen Magnus’ broken sobs.

 

#


	19. Chapter 19

Declan McCrae paced outside the infirmary, unable to still his churning thoughts. Henry and Will had helped Magnus to move Ashley to a more secure holding cell, while Cassandra had been coaxed by her mother to go back to bed.

 

Declan knew that he should check on the status of the Sanctuary and the Global Network, but right now, all he could think about were Samantha Carter’s words—that he was “ _a virtual clone_ ” of her brother.

 

Unable to stand it any longer, he burst into the room, only to find himself locked in the iron grip of the large black man, who had refused to remove his knitted hat.

 

“Who are you?” he shouted at Samantha Carter as he struggled against his captor. “Who the living _hell_ are you?”

 

“I’m Colonel Samantha Therese Carter,” the blonde replied quietly as she held his gaze defiantly. “I am the daughter of General Jacob Carter, USAF, and Mrs. Marianne Carter—both now deceased. My mother’s maiden name was Austin—and therefore, my _only_ brother was named Mark Austin Carter. He is seven years older than me and currently lives in San Diego. He’s married, has two children, and an abiding hatred for the armed forces,” she said bitterly. “Needless to say, we don’t get along terribly well—we exchange cards at Christmas and birthdays, and in the last years of my father’s life, we tried to have some kind of relationship for his sake, but after his death …” Sam shrugged before continuing quietly. “Now, we simply try to have a civil phone conversation every once in a while, but that’s the extent of our contact. And I have no clue who the _hell_ you are!”

 

As the black man let him go, Declan heard Helen ask, “How old are you, Samantha? When were you born—where were you born?”

 

He glanced at Magnus’ pale face; he hadn’t even noticed when she’d returned to the infirmary.

 

Carter looked at General O’Neill, who nodded slightly; Declan could tell that the older man was just as confused as he was and just as anxious to get some answers.

 

“I’m forty—nearly forty-one years old,” she said at last. “I was born on December 29, 1968 at Edwards Air Force Base in California.”

 

“That’s about month after you, Declan,” Helen said hoarsely and he frowned at her pale, pensive face, at a loss to see why that had any relevance.

 

“Why—where and when were you born, Mr. McCrae?” Samantha Carter asked.

 

“At my father’s private clinic on November 20, 1968, in London,” Declan replied evenly.

 

“Do you know where your parents were in the spring and summer of 1968, Samantha?” Helen asked.

 

The blonde was silent for a few moments as she stared at her dark-haired doppelganger. She shrugged. “Sure,” she replied. “My father’s stint at Edwards began in the spring of 1968.”

 

“And your mother?” Helen whispered. “Your mother went with him? She stayed at Edwards until you were born?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Sam replied easily. “Well, I know that she did visit relatives in London early summer 1968—May or June, I think. I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

 

 _“Oh God,”_ Helen whispered, eyes shut tightly. “Declan, do you know where Padraic was at that time?”

 

“How the bloody hell would I know?” he blazed. “I assume he and Ma were in London—I know he was doing a lot of research at his clinic at that point—as well as giving a number of lectures at the Royal Society … it’s about that time he first became friends with Watson. But I should think you’d know where he was far better than I would, Helen.”

 

“Wait!” Janet Fraiser interjected and Declan met her puzzled gaze in surprise. “Your father was Dr. Padraic McCrae—the fertility researcher who pioneered several _in vitro_ fertilisation techniques back in the late seventies and early eighties?”

 

“That’s right,” he replied. “I fail to see how that has any relevance …”

 

His voice trailed off as Magnus began to cry softly, collapsing against the wall as she curled up and sobbed into her hands.

 

 _“Oh God, Paddy, what did you do?”_ she begged softly, lifting her tearful gaze to the ceiling. _“Why? Why?”_

 

Declan stared at her in disbelief, his heart constricting in his chest as she beseeched his dead father in that broken voice.

 

“Magnus? What’s going on, Magnus?” he asked, hating the fear that rose like bile in his throat.

 

His voice seemed to pull Helen back to the situation at hand. She looked wildly from Declan to Samantha Carter, crying in panic, _“Oh God! Oh God!”_

 

And then suddenly Zimmerman was there, crouching beside her and drawing her into his embrace as she sobbed brokenly.

 

“That’s enough, Declan,” the younger man said firmly. “Back off!”

 

“Stay out of this, Will,” Declan snarled. “I want to know what the bloody _hell_ Magnus knows about this, and what it has to do with my _father_!”

 

As Will helped Magnus to stand, Henry Foss materialised at her side, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her. Declan felt his fury bubble up and explode as the two men closed ranks around the one person with all the answers.

 

“No, I want answers and I want them now!” he shouted storming towards them; Helen shrank back against Henry, white-faced and trembling as she buried her face in his shoulder. The distinctive whine of a stunner cut through Declan’s incipient rampage, stopping him in his tracks.

 

“ _Dude_ ,” Kate Freelander said, tapping the weapon against his temple. “The man said to back off! So back the hell off, or I’ll blast your _ass_ into next week!”

 

“Take her back to her quarters and put her to bed,” Will quietly instructed Henry. “Then make her a pot of tea and something to eat—I doubt she ate anything the Biggie brought her earlier in the evening. It’s after one AM, she’s exhausted and she’s had way too many shocks to her system for one night, even for Magnus.”

 

“Will do, Doc,” Henry replied and led the distraught Magnus away. Will closed the infirmary door behind them.

 

“So, you want to explain what the hell _that_ was all about, Dr. Zimmerman?” General O’Neill drawled—but the tone of his voice that said this was not a request but an order.

 

“I think that we should wait for Dr. Magnus—”

 

“Wait for Magnus?” Declan shouted furiously. “That’s rich—she’s the one stonewalling everybody! She’s the one who gets off on keeping the kinds of secrets that get people killed!”

 

As the words left his mouth, Will clocked him one, snapping his head to the side and making him see stars. Declan fell to his hands and knees, jaw stinging with pain.

 

“Whoa, dude, good one!” Kate whistled as she praised Will.

 

“You bastard!” he shouted at Declan, “You, _ungrateful_ bastard! After everything she’s done—after all the faith she’s shown in you since Watson died … How _dare_ you? She made you head of the London Sanctuary—made you second in command here while it’s being rebuilt—and _this_ is how you treat her?”

 

Declan sat back against the door frame, looked up at the furious young man and knew he was right. He’d been Watson’s protégé, but Magnus had always supported him to the hilt. Meeting Will’s angry gaze, he felt disgust only for himself.

 

“You want to know?” Will fumed. “Do you really want to know what finally broke her, Declan? After getting her daughter back ... after getting a glimpse of her baby again and then having to watch her reduced to the state of a mindless _animal_! After having to confine her own _daughter_ to the secure holding unit—do you know what finally broke her? Your father—your precious _father_!”

 

“I don’t understand,” Declan cried hoarsely. “What could my father possibly have to do with any of this, Will? He died over twenty-five years ago.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that you really don’t get it!” Will said turning his back in disgust and opening the door.

 

“So, what do you see with those freaky eyes of yours, Doc?” Kate asked. “’Cause I gotta tell you, I’m getting nothing here.”

 

“Please Will,” Declan croaked, reaching for the other man’s hand.

 

Zimmerman stopped, closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again and looked down, Declan saw undeniable pity there.

 

“Your father stole you, Declan.” Will said; his words were like acid dripping onto bare skin. “Forty-one years ago, your father stole you from Marianne Carter’s womb, because he had a clone of Helen Magnus he needed to hide,” he continued, shifting his gaze to meet Samantha Carter’s where she sat shocked, pale and vulnerable as she clung to Janet Fraiser’s hand. “That’s what Magnus just figured out—that was what she couldn’t face telling you … either of you. Not tonight—not after everything that’s happened _tonight_. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why your father—a man she trusted implicitly, from what I understand—would clone her.”

 

“But I bet you know,” Declan sneered angrily as the enormity of it threatened to drown him.

 

“Of course,” Will replied, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “I dare say, deep down Magnus knows as well, but her mind simply refuses to acknowledge it right now.

 

_“Padraic McCrae was working for the Cabal.”_

 

Tears streaming down his face, Declan dropped his head into his hands as Will continued ruthlessly.

 

“As for why he hid the clone—my guess is that he grew a conscience and couldn’t hand her over to those Cabal monsters in the end,” he said. “How your mother came under Dr. McCrae’s influence, Colonel Carter, and what your mother knew about your origins, Declan, I have no clue. And unless your _father_ left some sort of message, we’ll probably never know.”

 

#


	20. Chapter 20

_“Oh, for crying out loud!”_ Jack exploded. “Even I know it wasn’t possible to clone a person over _forty_ _years_ ago.”

 

Janet watched as all three Sanctuary personnel looked at him as if he were some form of annoying insect.

 

“Jack,” Daniel began quietly, trying to calm their friend down.

 

Jack refused to be deterred. “And swapping babies in and out of a woman’s womb? I doubt that’s even _possible_ today!” he said in outrage. “And what was so special about Helen Magnus anyway? Forty years ago—she would have been what? Five years old, max? Why would this _Cabal_ want to clone some little girl?”

 

“You have _no_ idea what’s possible in this world, General O’Neill,” Will Zimmerman snapped as Kate helped Declan to stand and dusted him off. “And as for what’s so special about Helen Magnus? That is _her_ business and _her_ story to tell _if_ and _when_ she sees fit to share it with you. But I will tell you one thing—she’s as _extraordinary_ a woman to us as Colonel Carter obviously is to you, General.”

 

Jack’s jaw clenched and Janet could see the obstinate look in his eye, but before he could say anything, Zimmerman continued, “Dr. Fraiser, I assume you’ll want to remain in the infirmary tonight with your daughter and Colonel Carter?”

 

“Yes, if it’s not any trouble?” Janet replied quietly.

 

“No trouble at all, ma’am,” he said. “Kate will remain here with you—all we ask is that you don’t go wandering around unescorted—”

 

“Why not?” Jack demanded belligerently.

 

“Because _Sanctuary_ isn’t an empty word here, _Jack_ ,” Cassandra said and Janet turned to meet her daughter’s haunted eyes. “It’s a sanctuary for all those who live here ... for all who _choose_ to come here. Why the hell do you think Dr. Magnus hasn’t batted an eye given what she knows I can do—what she’s no doubt seen of Sam’s altered physiology? Most of the people who live here haven’t been treated kindly by the outside world. It’s the one place they can find safety … the privacy to live their lives ... where they are treated like people, regardless of whatever else they may be. Dr. Magnus and her team protect them—this is their home. We’re guests in their _home_ —so act like it!”

 

Silence greeted Cassie’s words, and as she rolled on her side with her back to them, Jack had the good grace to look contrite.

 

After a few moments, Zimmerman cleared his throat. “General O’Neill, if you and the rest of your team would like to return to your base outside, Declan and I can escort you,” he said. “However, you are welcome to stay the night—guest suites have been prepared upstairs to accommodate you.”

 

“Let me check in with my people first and I’ll get back to you on that,” Jack replied.

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

“I will remain here, O’Neill,” Teal’c rumbled and Jack nodded.

 

“I’ll stay as well,” Vala said, flopping down across the foot of Cassie’s bed. “I have _no_ desire to go back out into the rain.” Bouncing up on her knees, she gave a devilish chuckle that made Sam and Janet groan in unison, while Cassie covered her head with a pillow. “It’ll be like a real slumber party!”

 

Kate Freelander laughed, flashing a conspiratorial look at Vala. “Cool!” she said. “I’ll even spring for popcorn, sodas and ice cream.”

 

#

 

“Damned bunch of weirdoes,” Jack muttered angrily from the threshold of the field tent as he watched Zimmerman and McCrae make their way through the wrought-iron gates back to the Sanctuary.

 

“That isn’t helping, Jack,” Daniel said in exasperation.

 

“Come on, Daniel! Don’t tell me you’re buying that load of bull they tried feeding us?” he shouted turning away from the view of the rain-lashed mansion.

 

“Look, I agree that there’s something definitely strange going on here, okay, but I also think that there’s a lot happening here that we just don’t understand, because like us, they have their own operational security,” Daniel replied, not really understanding why Jack was acting so unusually obstinate even for him. “How or why this place exists, I don’t know—we’ll just have to wait for Dr. Magnus’ explanation—but even _you_ have to admit that if what Zimmerman said is true; that woman has certainly taken more than enough emotional blows for one night.”

 

“Yeah ... right,” Jack replied, sarcasm dripping thickly.

 

“What do you mean, General O’Neill?” Cameron Mitchell asked in concern. “What happened in there? Is Sam all right?”

 

Jack sighed and stalked further into the tent, taking a seat at the table set up as part of the command centre. Other than Daniel and Mitchell, only Jennifer Hailey was also present, poring over her computer set-up as she tried to break into the Sanctuary’s systems.

 

“Sam’s fine,” he replied at last. “Fraiser and Magnus managed to put all her innards back where they belong. She came through the surgery with flying colours and her immune system seems to be doing its job fighting whatever the hell those kidnappers infected her with. She even woke up a little while ago—and then, of course, things went from weird to downright loony-tunes in about ten seconds flat.”

 

“Sir?” Mitchell said in confusion, just as a female voice behind them said, _“You don’t know the half of it, General O’Neill.”_

 

Jack met Lisa Bowman’s gaze as she entered the tent. “The Doc sent me along to report on the medical situation, sir,” she said as Jack waved off her formality and indicated she should sit in the chair across from him.

 

“Go on,” he said. “And remember, words with the fewest syllables possible would be much appreciated.”

 

She smiled at his quip, and it suddenly struck him that her smile transformed a rather ordinary face into a rather beautiful one.

 

“Yes, sir,” she said quiet voice. “There may be some truth to what Dr. Magnus claims about the relationship between Sam and her—and she has proof, _DNA proof_ , that Sam shares _at least_ eighty percent of her genes—”

 

 _“What?”_ Jack knew that he shouldn’t be surprised at this given all the other revelations tonight, but he is. “How the hell does she have Sam’s DNA profile—doesn’t it take time to do this type of comparison?”

 

“Yes sir, it does,” she replied. “Our analysis set-up is the best on this planet—considering the special _help_ we’ve received creating it—and _we’d_ be hard-pressed to produce the kind of DNA map Dr. Magnus has apparently produced within the few hours Sam has been here. But if those maps I saw were fakes, then they’re damned good ones, sir. Furthermore, although I haven’t been able to speak to her, I’m pretty sure Janet also thinks that they’re real, and believe me, she knows Sam’s map backwards and forwards. Once she got a chance to examine the data, Magnus wouldn’t be able to fool her.”

 

 _“Jesus Christ,”_ Jack muttered.

 

“That’s not all,” Bowman continued. “First of all, I’m a trained DNA tech—have been for the better part of a decade—and in the outside world those maps would be top rate, sir. Furthermore, given the ludicrous number of genes she was looking at, it would take a state of the art lab _days_ —if not a week—to produce something that comprehensive. But according to Magnus, using her system, they’re just a quick and dirty analysis of Sam’s DNA. She has had a more detailed sequence running since Sam was brought in—apparently, she just couldn’t swallow that it was sheer coincidence she and Sam look so much alike.” 

 

Jack dropped his head into his hands, shaking it from side to side. _“No, no, no, no!”_ he ranted, not even wanting to think about the security breech this represented.

 

“Consider this for a second, sir—Genetics 101. You would share fifty percent of your genes with your child, and in the real world, although it varies, you would also share, on average, fifty percent of your genes with a sibling—unless it’s an identical twin, who for all intents and purposes, would be a natural _clone_ of you. Then you would share _one hundred percent_ of your genes with that sibling. Now, because of everything she’s been through, Sam has had a few _changes_ over the years, but as it turns out, so has Helen Magnus.”

 

Jack’s eyes widened in shock as Bowman continued relentlessly. “According to Cassandra, sir, Dr. Magnus was also exposed to this _Source Blood_ in the past and it changed her in some way—it’s part of the reason why that Cabal scientist wanted her. But that explains why, if they’re twins or Sam is some sort of clone as Magnus claims—and don’t even ask, sir, because I can’t even _begin_ to figure out how that can be possible. But taking into account the changes they’ve been through, they wouldn’t be one hundred percent genetically identical any more.”

 

“Do you think her system is good enough to figure out the specific changes in Sam’s genes?” Daniel asked thoughtfully.

 

“From what I’ve seen, I’d say it’s a definite possibility, Dr. Jackson,” she replied. “But it’s the analysis of those changes that’s important—and with her equipment ... sir, everything in that operating room was state of the art, even for the SGC, and there were some instruments I couldn’t identify and I’m sure Janet couldn’t either. Not to mention, I get the feeling that she’s easily as good a doctor as Janet is; I don’t doubt she could analyse that data and come to the right conclusions. And you’ve got to consider, sirs, if she _is_ related to Sam, whether sister or clone, then she’s probably as _intelligent_ as Sam is.”

 

“Damn,” Mitchell said. “Two Sams? Have you guys considered she might be—you know—a refugee … _alternate_ that sort of wandered over here somehow?”

 

Bowman shook her head. “Entropic cascade failure would have killed her by now.”

 

“But what about the multiple versions who came through the ... ah ... _Chappa’ai_?” Daniel asked, meaningfully stressing the alien word for _Stargate_.

 

“From what I understand that was a special case as it had intersected a black hole—created a bridge that allowed them to come through without the cascade happening,” she replied. “In any case, this whole _clone_ debate isn’t even the most far-fetched thing bandied about tonight, sir.”

 

“You mean there’s more?” Jack said with very real exasperation.

 

“Sir, you know that transportation technology you have Hailey looking for?” Jack nodded and she continued with a strange half smile. “Well, you’re not going to find it. According to Sam, it wasn’t technology that brought them from the pharmaceutical building to the Sanctuary, it was Ashley Magnus.”

 

“I don’t get it,” Mitchell said after a few moments of silence.

 

“Apparently, _Ashley_ has the ability to teleport matter from one place to another—”

 

 _“Oh my God,”_ Hailey said staring at the nurse in shock. “That’s just not possible!”

 

“According to Sam it is,” Bowman replied. “She confronted Dr. Magnus about it right after she woke up and Magnus confirmed it. It’s an ability Ashley apparently inherited from her father, but the genes that controlled it were dormant until exposure to the Source Blood activated them. That’s why this _Cabal_ took the girl—tried to turn her into a super-soldier. Sam also asked Magnus what Ashley’s range was, but she didn’t know—she hasn’t had the chance to test her daughter since her abilities were activated. However, according to the good doctor, Ashley’s _father_ could send himself from here to London, England in the blink of an eye.”

 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me!” Mitchell said after a short, stunned silence.

 

“I swear, sir, I heard the whole conversation,” she said. “But before Sam could question Magnus further, the General and the others came in, and then the whole debacle about Sam and Declan McCrae got started—things just went to hell from there.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Jack said tiredly again.

 

“They could be some sort _hok’taur_ ,” Daniel muttered and went silent. Jack glared at him, jolting him out of his introspection. “The type of advanced human Nirrti had been trying to produce when she experimented on Cassie and her people.”

 

“I know what a damned _hok’taur_ is,” Jack said impatiently. “You think there’s a snakehead behind this?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Daniel replied. “But given everything our research tells us about the Ancients and the fact that Earth is the First World, the world Humans evolved on—in the Milky Way Galaxy that is—and given what we know about the hand the Ancients have had, first in spurring on our evolution, and later intermarrying with our ancestors after their return, it’s entirely possible there would be natural leaps forward in the development of Humanity. Remember, the Ancients created us in an effort to produce a _second evolution_ of their species—so it makes sense that as we evolve, people with more advanced abilities are going to start cropping up, either because of new mutations or conserved Ancient genes that have been activated or have come together in the right combination to be effective—as you should know. After all, you’re a prime example.”

 

Jack scowled at him as he referenced Jack’s own genetic make-up, which included the rare Ancient Technology Activation gene that allowed him to operate the technology left behind by humanity’s Ancient evolutionary forerunners—technology that normal humans could not operate.

 

“Sir, I’ve just found something else weird that may or may not be related to this,” Hailey said shifting anxiously from one foot to the other.

 

Jack raised an eyebrow as he studied her for a moment. “Well?” he groused.

 

“Yes sir,” she rapped out. “I was trying to trace data on the Sanctuary itself, to see if I could get a handle on what they’re doing—but this place is shielded behind so many shell companies and trusts that it isn’t even funny. What I did find were some bare bones facts classified by _our_ government starting at about 1950. They have a restricted classification as an International Non-Governmental Organization falling under the auspices of the United Nations. But they’re not under UN control; they’re an independent NGO with the UN providing oversight—whatever that means. Regarding this facility, the land and main building were an old monastery bought in 1910 by a Dr. H. V. Magnus—it doesn’t say whether it was a man or woman—but apparently, this place first came into use between 1945 and 1950. Since then, approximately every fifteen to twenty years, like clockwork, the Sanctuary changes hands, or at least appears to on paper.”

 

“What does that mean?” Daniel asked clearly intrigued.

 

“It means that each time it changes hands, the corporation used stems from the same source as far as I can determine,” she replied. “It’s the original British corporation that founded the Sanctuary in the first place—it’s called _Avernasitas Sanctorium_ —”

 

“Universal Sanctuary,” Daniel translated thoughtfully. “But that’s not even Latin—it’s something more closely akin to the original language of the Ancients, which we know early Latin stems from,” he said in surprise as Jack shook his head again in frustration. “In Ancient, it would be _Avernakis Sanctori_ , but in Latin it would properly be _Omnimodus Templum_ , but if you wanted to use Latin words stemming from the Ancient equivalent, then _Universitas Sanctuarium_. However, this is like a sort of strange, mixed up transliteration of the phrase from Ancient.”

 

“Could it also mean _Sanctuary for all_?” Bowman asked and Daniel nodded the affirmative. “It seems to be a catch-phrase among them, sir,” she explained as Jack gave her a penetrating look. “When I was getting ready to leave, I heard Kate Freelander talking to Henry Foss. She felt it would have probably been more prudent to drop Sam and Cassandra off at a local hospital, before calling us, but Foss said that Magnus would never have allowed it especially since the Cabal had been experimenting with the Source Blood on Sam—and besides Freelander knew Magnus’ motto—”

 

 _“Sanctuary for all,”_ Daniel said thoughtfully.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, the interesting thing is who is listed as head of the place each time the Sanctuary changes hands,” Hailey continued after a moment of silence. “After this Sanctuary was established in the Fifties, a Dr. V. H. Magnus was head until 1970, after which you had Dr. J. Henry Watson from 1970 to 1985, followed by Dr. Helen Magnus from 1985 to 2006, when it finally passed to Ms Ashley Patricia Magnus on December 15, 2006 just after her twenty-first birthday, with her mother remaining as Trustee and nominal head until Ashley turned twenty-seven. Leadership formally reverted back to Helen Magnus five months ago—just after Ashley was reported to have been kidnapped.”

 

“So, do you know who this Watson was and his relationship to the Magnus family?” Jack curiously.

 

“No sir,” the young lieutenant replied. “However, remembering that argument between Zimmerman and McCrae about McCrae taking over the London Sanctuary after _Watson_ died, I checked into _its_ history and it goes back even further and that’s where the true pattern emerges. It was first incorporated as a private sanatorium under the leadership of Dr. Gregory Magnus in 1865, then became a Sanctuary under the leadership of Dr. H. V. Magnus in 1895, then Dr. James H. Watson took over in 1910, then Dr. V. H. Magnus is listed as head of the London facility from 1935 to 1955, then Dr. J. Henry Watson in 1955 to 1970, followed by Dr. Victoria H. Magnus from 1970 to 1985, then back to James Watson from 1985 to 2010, and finally Mr. Declan McCrae after Watson’s death earlier this year. Anyway, I was just about to start digging into the other Sanctuary facilities—there are at least three others I’ve found so far.”

 

“I don’t get it—why would two families switch ownership every twenty years or so for over a century?” Mitchell asked in confusion.

 

“Or two _individuals_ have been switching off every fifteen to twenty-five years for over a century,” Daniel said in sudden comprehension and they stared at him in shock. “It would be simple, but _ingenious_ way to hide incredible longevity! What do you want to bet they go away and come back, after years abroad, posing as their own daughter or son if anyone asked questions? What do you want to bet that _this_ Magnus’ full name is Dr. Helen _Victoria_ Magnus? Think about it, Jack,” he said, eyes shining as he warmed up to his subject. “You asked the question yourself—why would this _Cabal_ want to clone a five-year-old girl to create Sam? Well they wouldn’t; they’d want to clone _grown woman_ ... a very special woman who is perhaps over a _century_ old and apparently hasn’t _aged_.”

 

“God damn it to _hell_ , Daniel!” Jack shouted. “You mean she’s another damned _snake_ that’s been trapped this planet for God knows how long?”

 

Daniel shook his head. “No, I don’t think she’s a _Goa’uld_ ,” he replied quietly. “She certainly doesn’t act like one—and she doesn’t act like a _Tok’ra_ either,” he added. “Furthermore, Teal’c, Sam, Vala and Cassandra haven’t sensed the presence of a symbiote. They would have told us if they had. And Cassie has gone out of her way to stress that there’s something special about this place and the people in it— _especially_ Dr. Magnus. But could you imagine what someone like her could mean to groups like the NID or the Trust?”

 

“That’s why this _Cabal_ would want to clone her—to look for the secret to her longevity,” Lisa Bowman said. “In all likelihood, if this is true, then Sam was meant to be a lab rat,” she whispered in horror, which silenced them all for long moments.

 

“And once they had it, they could offer it to other powerful people,” Daniel continued bitterly. “But consider that individual Ancients lived for centuries—even millennia—”

 

“You think that our evolutionary path is headed that way, Dr. Jackson?” Bowman asked curiously.

 

“Possibly,” he replied, “or one of our possible paths could be headed that way. But if you look at the information we’ve gathered so far, whatever these genes are, like the demonstrated Ancient genes, they’re latent in our DNA. It’s this _Source Blood_ stuff seems to activate them—perhaps it’s some holdover bio-technology from the Ancients. Anyway, if we’re right, then Helen Magnus and this James Watson were exposed to it over a century ago and it granted them very long lives, but in Ashley, it activated her latent teleporting ability, which she apparently inherited from her _father_. Therefore, that means either Watson was a teleporter as well as incredibly long-lived, or another man was also exposed to the stuff and it activated his teleporting ability, which he then passed on to his daughter—possibly that Druitt guy the Cabal agents were talking about.”

 

“Damn it, Daniel! Sam’s been exposed to that stuff!” Jack shouted as the implications sank in at last.

 

“I know, Jack,” he replied grimly. “I know.”

 

#


	21. Chapter 21

In the dim infirmary, the shadows played tricks with Samantha Carter mind as she lay back among her pillows unable to get back to sleep. She’d dozed off a few hours ago while watching the first movie in the _Resident Evil_ series; surprisingly, Kate Freelander had found the DVDs among the Sanctuary’s movie collection, and true to her word, had supplied a couple pints of ice cream, bottles of soft drinks and a big bowl of popcorn.

 

 _“Henry’s a zombie movie buff,”_ she’d told them laughingly. _“Not to mention he’s like Mila Jovovich’s biggest fanboy ever!”_

 

But, while Vala was asleep sprawled across the foot of Cassandra’s bed, neither Teal’c, nor the brash young woman, were in evidence. However, Sam knew that her Jaffa friend took his role of guardian very seriously and would be just outside the door, alert and hyper-aware of his surroundings—ready to take on anything that might threaten his friends. She could only guess that Freelander was also alert and monitoring the place to make sure their guests didn’t go wandering around anywhere they weren’t supposed to.

 

Sam didn’t know what woke her up; just a general sense of unease and disquiet about this place ... this Sanctuary. Although her telepathic sense was fading now, there were things here that brushed up against the fragile mental shields Cassandra had shown her how to protect herself with—monstrous, frightening things that made her wish her abilities would fade more quickly as the Source Blood was flushed from her system. She hated this jumpy ... frightened feeling that seemed to permeate her entire being to her very bones. It made her feel like running away from everything and hiding. It made her feel like a _coward_.

 

The only redeeming thing about this whole mess was that the constant, familiar glow of Cassandra’s mind was measurably stronger now than it had been before they were kidnapped—and with it came a fragile, but comforting link to Janet.

 

Sam turned her head to study her best friend and lover. Janet was curled up in the armchair Magnus had left behind and someone had covered her with a thin hospital blanket. Her small frame and delicate features belied both her strength and iron will. Physically, she was weaker than Sam, there was no denying that—and more so since that staff blast nearly took her life six years ago—but for Sam, Janet was her rock, and had been even before they’d come together romantically.

 

They’d been best friends from the start of Janet’s tenure as chief medical officer at Stargate Command over twelve years ago and together they’d raised Cassandra when the traumatised child had been left orphaned by a megalomaniacal _Goa’uld_ , who had slaughtered an entire people in order to turn a little girl into a weapon capable of destroying the SGC.

 

But it had taken Janet nearly dying to make Sam realise what had been in front of her all the while ... to make her acknowledge the feelings that had grown between them over the years. And Sam was glad she had taken that chance because it was the most comfortable ... most _natural_ relationship she’d ever had in her adult life.

 

Often, she’d wondered why she hadn’t seen it before, but it occurred to her now that her brother had seen it quite plainly all those years ago when he’d rejected Sam and Cassie, the day she’d hesitantly brought the child to meet him and his children. Mark had been cold and unwelcoming, angry that she could make time for this girl who wasn’t even related to Sam, while always being too busy to visit his children, conveniently overlooking the fact that they lived a couple of thousand miles away. But even if she’d not been ready to acknowledge it herself, Mark had known that she’d truly made Cassie—and Janet—her family.

 

As if summoned by her thoughts, Janet’s eyes fluttered open. She smiled sleepily at Sam before frowning.

 

“Hey, what are you doing awake, sweetheart?” she asked softly in concern as she rose from the chair. Her movements were stiff and awkward, and she winced slightly as she aggravated the old injury to her abdomen.

 

“Woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep,” Sam whispered as Janet automatically began to check her vitals. “Even with everything I’ve seen and done, there are things here, Janet ... I don’t know how to explain it, but there are things here that scare me—” In her lover’s wide, caramel-brown eyes, she saw surprise at her admission and she forced herself to continue, “Things that I’m afraid will devour me if I let them get too close to my mind.”

 

Janet leaned in and gently brushed a tear that had fallen, unbidden, on her cheek. “It’ll be okay,” she soothed. “It’ll be okay.”

 

“How can it be okay, Janet?” she cried desperately. “I don’t know who or _what_ I am anymore!”

 

“You are Samantha Carter!” Janet said fiercely, gathering Sam up into her arms as she sat on the edge of the bed.

 

Sam shook her head miserably. “You don’t understand,” she whispered hoarsely as the tears became a flood now. “They-they thought they were having a boy—had ... had his name all picked out—Samuel, after my mother’s father. M-Mark told me when we were kids. _He_ was supposed to be Samuel Carter—oh Janet, _Declan_ was supposed to be _Sam Carter_. I’m not supposed to be here at all,” she said sobbing, her heart aching in her chest as if a vice was tightened about it. “I’m no one! I’m nothing but a copy of that woman upstairs! I’m not sup-supposed to b-be h-here!”

 

Janet pulled back, dark eyes snapping, face red with fury. _“Bullshit!”_ she growled harshly; Sam trembled under her gaze. “I’m sorry, I know you love him, but your brother is a complete and utter _dick!_ I mean, who tells a _child_ that?”

 

Catching Sam by the shoulders, Janet gave her a rough shake. “If _you_ are no one, well who am I, Sam? If you’re not supposed to be here, then where am I supposed to be? Where the hell is Cassandra supposed to be? Where in God’s name is this entire damned _world_ supposed to be, if you’re not supposed to be here, Samantha Carter?”

 

Sam couldn’t answer her. All she could do was cling to Janet—her anchor in this suddenly turbulent world.

 

“If you’re not meant to be, Sam, then I’m not meant to be either,” Janet whispered fiercely, pressing gentle kisses into her temple, her tears spilling onto her love’s cheek and mingling with the rivulets already coursing down Sam’s face. “Because you have given me everything! _You_ gave me my daughter ... _you_ gave me my life ... _you_ gave me the love of my life!” she said fiercely. “Don’t you dare belittle that, _Samantha Carter!_ Don’t you _dare!_ ”

 

#


	22. Chapter 22

Helen Magnus took a deep breath before entering the infirmary at 8:30 AM the next morning. She didn’t really need the computer tablet she carried, but like her pristine, white lab coat, it offered her a bit of armour—more psychological than anything—against the outsiders in her Sanctuary and the chaos they’d brought with them.

 

 _I knew there was a reason I stayed as far away from the military industrial complex as I could for the last bloody century_ , she thought ruefully.

 

But enough of her fears and self-indulgence; she needed these people to help cure her daughter and to do so, she needed to provide _them_ with answers to their questions.

 

All eyes snapped to her face as she entered. Kate and Henry had brought down a food service cart with coffee and breakfast, which her guests seemed to be enjoying; even Samantha Carter looked remarkably well and alert, considering everything she’d been through in the last twenty-four hours.

 

“How is Ashley?” Cassandra immediately asked coming towards her; her blue-grey eyes were filled with concern and tears.

 

“There hasn’t been any change overnight,” Helen replied as she gently squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “She seems to be in a catatonic state.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and Helen’s heart broke for her.

 

She gathered the girl into a tight hug. “It’s not your fault, Cassandra,” she replied hoarsely. “It’s not your fault. You saved her and brought her home to me—and I will _always_ be grateful to you for that.”

 

Cassandra nodded and stepped out of her embrace, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

 

Helen lifted her gaze to meet those of the other occupants in the room. “Well, once the rest of your colleagues arrive, I think it would be prudent to take you all on a tour of the Sanctuary—meet some of the residents and answer your questions,” she said. “Colonel Carter, I can have a television monitor brought in—”

 

“I’ll be fine in a wheelchair, Dr. Magnus,” the younger blonde replied firmly. Helen nodded, declining to argue the point.

 

“What about your residents?” Janet Fraiser asked. “From what Cassie has said, I take it you provide your guests with privacy as well as protection—won’t this be an intrusion? Have they given their consent to this?”

 

Helen smiled at the younger doctor’s concern and felt warmed by it. “Those of my residents who can give their consent have already done so,” she replied as Janet helped her patient into the wheelchair Kate had procured. “Many of my guests are long term residents and trust me to do what’s in their best interests, while those sentients who are non-verbal have other ways of making their wishes known.”

 

“So, exactly how _long term_ are we talking about, Doc?” Jack O’Neill’s belligerent tones grated on her nerves, but she brought her emotions under iron control as she turned to face him. Will offered her an apologetic smile as the rest of the military team joined them. “More than a century perhaps,” he said smugly.

 

“Yes, some of the Sanctuary’s residents are rather long-lived,” she replied evenly; she hated the fact that as she spoke, she’d wrapped her arms about the computer tablet, holding it to her chest as if it could shield her from the knowledge and distrust she saw in his eyes.

 

_Ah well, time to take the tiger by its tail._

 

“And as you’ve no doubt figured out by now, General, that includes me,” she said ignoring the murmurs of surprise and confusion from O’Neill’s colleagues who had spent the night in the infirmary.

 

“So, exactly how old are you?” a younger, dark-haired man demanded. He grinned charmingly at her, but there was a certain insincerity in it. “Mitchell, Colonel Cameron Mitchell at your service, ma’am.”

 

Helen refused to be intimidated and gave him her most coquettish smile. “Now, Colonel Mitchell, a true gentleman _never_ asks a lady her age,” she admonished in her most Victorian tones. A titter of laughter came from behind her, but she didn’t break her gaze with him to identify who it was.

 

“I ain’t no gentleman, ma’am,” he drawled, exaggerating his accent.

 

“Quite so,” she retorted archly. “Well, if you must know, sir, I am 159 years old,” she said, enjoying her colleagues’ smirks as the military people’s jaws all literally dropped in shock when she unapologetically threw her age into their teeth. “And if you’ll all follow me, I shall show you what _Sanctuary for All_ means, and why it is necessary.”

 

After instructing Will and Kate to escort most of the military personnel down the stairs, Helen took O’Neill, Carter, Fraiser and the taciturn _Murray_ down in the elevator.

 

“Now Cassandra tells me that you’ve all seen some rather amazing things in your travels,” she said quietly as the elevator came to a stop and they all filed out. “But I do feel the need to ask that no matter how surprising the appearance of some of the residents on this level, you keep in mind that they are all intelligent, _sentient_ beings.”

 

“Don’t worry, we’ve all done the meet and greet _shtick_ before,” Cameron Mitchell said cockily as the rest of the team joined them.

 

“Not like this, Cam,” Cassandra said laughing as she ran unerringly to the glass front of the mermaid’s enclosure.

 

As if pulled by some force, the mermaid torpedoed through the water to stop suddenly at the glass. As she floated there, she pressed her forehead and hands against the barrier, mirroring Cassandra’s actions.

 

 _“My God,”_ Janet whispered, just as Samantha croaked, _“This has to be an illusion.”_

 

“No illusion, Sam,” the young woman said, turning to her mothers with glowing eyes. She held out her hands to them. “Come, listen to her—she’s so beautiful!”

 

“A mermaid?” Daniel Jackson’s awe was unmistakeable. “Oh my God!”

 

“Her name is _Ssah’ryllikikee-ee-ee_ ,” Helen said, giving the characteristic clicks and chirps at the end of the name.

 

“And as for the rest of us who don’t have a degree in _dolphinese_ , we just call her _Sally_ ,” Kate quipped chuckling as she checked the habitat control panel.

 

“This is incredible,” the young officer, Hailey, breathed.

 

“It’s not possible,” O’Neill croaked watching in disbelief as Sam, Janet and Cassandra communed with the mermaid through the glass.

 

“ _She_ is very possible, General O’Neill,” Helen said. She looked up and caught Sally’s attention with a gentle mental nudge; she nodded and the mermaid turned, and with a quick flick of her powerful tail, disappeared into the depths of her habitat. “As are they all,” she continued, directing them to the other habitats that ringed the central control area.

 

She stood back and watched them as they walked from one transparent wall to another, taking in glimpses of the inhabitants within. Two-Face did his shtick being comedic and obnoxious by turns.

 

“And I thought I had problems, Magnus,” he called as he got a good look at Samantha. “It looks like you went and got yourself fissioned completely. What are ya—a human amoeba?”

 

“All right, that’s quite enough out of both of you,” she said in warning.

 

“Aw, you’re never any fun, Magnus!”

 

“No, _you_ never say anything funny,” Steve, the sentient lizard-like being, quipped from his enclosure. “Have a lovely visit,” he said, waving to the military team before returning his attention to his book.

 

“What’s in here?” Mitchell asked just as a wall of flames engulfed the dark habitat and roiled against the transparent partition. “Whoa!” he shouted, jumping back from the enclosure.

 

“He is what is known as an Elemental,” Helen replied. “In his case, a Fire Elemental; he’s quite young for his species and very shy. He’s still learning to control his abilities, which is why he is here—the Sanctuary is a safe place for him to learn to do so without being a danger to humans or their settlements that often encroach in places they wouldn’t have even half a century ago. His species is rare, and they are often very misunderstood, but most live in their natural habitat and it’s very dangerous to tamper with them. They instinctively know to stay away from humans as random fire starting tends to be rather _inconveniently_ investigated these days, even in fairly remote places. But once we are sure he’s no longer a danger, he will be returned.”

 

“How many of these ... _creatures_ ... do you have in this place?” O’Neill asked, clearly shaken.

 

“As a group, _we_ are generally referred to as Abnormals, as we are quite simply beyond the norm,” Helen replied with a hard glare; she watched their shock with faint amusement as they realised she’d included herself in the group. “There are four levels below this—the lowest one is the Secure Holding Unit, full containment, maximum isolation—”

 

“Maximum isolation?” Vala asked curiously.

 

“Yes, for Abnormals who are completely inimical to both Humans and other Abnormals,” she replied. “This is also a rather large building, so there are many residents housed in rooms and habitats in other wings beyond the area you’ve seen. Some stay for a few weeks or months, while others remain for years, even decades. Still many others simply come in when they require respite from the outside world. Habitats like these are for those beings that require special environments in which to survive, or to keep them from being harmed, or to keep them from harming others.”

 

“You mean you have some of them simply walking around the place?” Mitchell said in outrage.

 

“Why not— _you’re_ simply walking around the place,” Kate sniped. “In fact, here comes one of them now—hey Big Guy!”

 

Helen watched them closely as, for all intents and purposes, they came face to face with a legendary _Sasquatch_ when he left the shadows near the stairs and walked towards the group. He _whuffled_ a soft greeting to Kate, before turning his attention to Helen.

 

“Magnus,” he said between gentle snorts and hoots. “Uh ... uh ... Henry has gone ... uh ... into Ashley’s cell—”

 

 _“What?”_ Helen shouted in alarm and ran over to the control panel to bring up the surveillance cameras in the room.

 

“He is ... uh ... uh ... singing to her.”

 

“Henry!” Helen cried over the com system and Ashley’s room flashed up on the monitor as the last few bars of The Doors classic, _People are Strange_ , died away. The young man had placed Helen’s old acoustic guitar into Ashley’s unresisting hands. She also noticed that he’d attached chains to her wrist manacles in order to allow her more freedom of movement.

 

Henry was strumming his own electric guitar, a vintage Stratocaster that Helen had given him for his fourteenth birthday—she hadn’t known his actual birthday, and so had used the date he’d begun his residency at the Sanctuary. She immediately recognised the song, _These Small Crimes_ , which he had often played with his old garage band before they had broken up when the young men were still in their early twenties. Ashley had sometimes jammed with them, but more when she was younger and thought it was ‘cool’; a few short years later, Henry and his friends had only seemed ‘too geeky for words’.

 

 _High school and heartache, how much can you take?_  

_now you know you'll never break down_

_everybody's leaving, summertime grieving_

_cause no one's going to the same town_

_oh these loaded words they will go off_

_and break these hearts so young_

_ain't it tough?_

 

_and half the time we're lost_

_where are the lines we've crossed?_

_can't you help this_

 

_now we'll confess, these small crimes that made this mess_

_and the little spot I keep inside my heart_

_just in case you decide these small crimes that we confide_

_can be chalked up to youth and we can start again._

 

Suddenly, as Henry launched into the instrumental part in the middle of the song, Helen noticed that Ashley’s fingers began to move, following the melody flawlessly. Again, emotion squeezed at her heart and she swallowed thickly as tears spilled unchecked down her cheeks.

 

_have you played my serenade?_

__bet you haven't heard it in a few years_ _

__all we did was never admit_ _

__and bring each other to tears_ _

 

__and half the time we knew_ _

__and half we had no clue_ _

__what could happen..._ _

 

__now we'll confess, these small crimes that made this mess_ _

__and the little spot I keep inside my heart_ _

__just in case you decide these small crimes that we confide_ _

__can be chalked up to youth and we can start again._ _

 

__start again..._ _

 

 

“I know what I’m doing, Magnus,” he said, eyes moist as he smiled proudly. “Trust me; I promise I know what I’m doing. She asked me to do this for her—when she talked about singing my songs. It just took me a while to realise what she was saying. It will help bring her back, I know it will.”

 

“I do trust you, Henry,” she replied hoarsely as he began to play another song. Almost immediately, Ashley again joined in, fingers flying effortlessly over the guitar’s strings as the young man launched into the lyrics _Love, I Will Find You_.

 

_lately I've been holding on_

_to nothing for far too long_

_and I'm afraid if I let go_

_I'll lose the only thing I know_

_somehow I have got this wrong_

_they tied me up when I was young_

_when I got free I looked for you_

_I know my heart, but where are you, where are you?_

 

_love, I will find you someday_

_l_ _ove, I will find you someday_

 _love, I will find you someday_  

 

Helen couldn’t help the sobs that escaped her as Ashley’s raw, hoarse soprano joined Henry’s earnest tenor in repeating the chorus and they began to harmonize in a way she had never heard them do before. Will drew Helen into his embrace, and for once, she simply accepted his comfort without thinking about it.

 She was also acutely aware of Samantha Carter and her colleagues watching them with interest, but at the moment she really didn’t care; all she cared about was her daughter and Henry as they sang their love for each other.

 

_I have tried without success_

_the hurt I know defined me best_

_but will you change me I reshape me too_

_take these empty parts that still need you_

_love, I will find you someday_

_love, I will find you someday_

_love, I will find you someday_

_I can dream and you can dream_

_and if we dream, oh there we'll meet_

_don't be scared I feel you breathing_

_this heart's beating, this heart's beating_

_feel this heart beat_

_feel this heart beat_

_feel this heart beat_

_feel this heart beat_

_l ove, I will find you someday_

_love, I will find you someday_

_love, I will find you someday_

_someday...someday._

 

(Songs quoted are from _goodnight, young novelist_ by Graydon James)

 

#


	23. Chapter 23

Sam felt Janet’s hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, anchoring her just as she felt that the emotional onslaught from Helen Magnus would overwhelm her. Her mind raced as she studied the other woman; Magnus was entirely focused on Ashley and Henry to the exclusion of all else. Even Will Zimmerman’s arm about her shoulders didn’t intrude on her fierce concentration on the pair of young people as they launched into another song. 

 

Sam got the feeling that it could easily have been the Sasquatch or even Jack’s arms, for all the attention Helen showed the person actually holding her. Suddenly, Sam realised that her brunette doppelganger was singing quietly … under her breath, but she was singing the lyrics to the next song along with Henry and Ashley. And looking into that youthful face so like her own, with tears flowing from those weary, too-old eyes, Sam realised that Helen Magnus had told Mitchell the truth; she really was _159_ years old. 

 

_hey modern world there's a time and a place_

_to remind me I'm a thorn in your side_

_I'm a thorn and if this talk is a waste of time_

_well, I am sworn to defend I am sworn_

_to tell you all your modern war is a waste_

_I will warn you that you need a warning_

_don't be so sure...so sure_  

 

And looking away, Sam found that even after speaking with Janet, and sharing her thoughts and fears with her into the wee hours of the morning … even after seeing the kinds of beings that lived in this _Sanctuary_ —even after all the extraordinary things she’d seen and done in her own life—she didn’t feel entirely ready for the enormity of this woman or her life. _One hundred and fifty-nine years; what must it have been like to live through all those decades_?

 

_there's an open road_

__I have walked upon_ _

__take a heavy load_ _

__share it with the dawn_ _

__and you will know..._ _

 

__dig for a dime and you'll find that the devil's only_ _

__in the way that you say no way_ _

__and never mind that the earth is holy_ _

__it's a prayer for us all and beware_ _

__when you decide – don't fake the smile_ _

__next door it's worldwide – my inch your mile_ _

__comfort and suicide...comfort and suicide_ _

 

__there's an open road_ _

__we will all walk down_ _

__paved with the gold_ _

__from every crown_ _

__and you will know..._ _

 

__and the stars fall down_ _

__all the stars come down_ _

_all the stars come down_

 

#

 

As the last strains of music died away, the guitar slipped from Ashley’s hands to lie in her lap. She dropped her face into her manacled hands, sobbing softly.

 

 _“Oh God, Henry,”_ she cried brokenly.

 

The young man carefully took off his guitar and rested it on the wheeled tray just out of reach of the bed, before removing the acoustic guitar and leaning it against the wall. Then he put his arm around her and pulled her close.

 

“It’ll be all right, Ashley,” he said gently. “It’ll be all right.”

 

“You don’t understand,” she cried in despair. “I killed so many people ... nearly destroyed everything … nearly killed _Mom_!”

 

Henry pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head as she clung to him. “But you didn’t kill your Mom, Ashley,” he said. “Magnus is fine—she’s just fine. Aren’t you Boss?”

 

“Yes, Ashley, I’m perfectly fine,” Helen said gently into the com pickup. “I’m coming in.”

 

 _“No!”_ Ashley screamed, utterly terrified. “Mom, you can’t come in here! I’m a monster … just like _him_!”

 

“No, you’re not!” Helen shouted her heart breaking. “You are _nothing_ like him, Ashley—I promise, on my honour, you are not!”

 

Ashley sobbed harder, struggling to push out of Henry’s embrace. “You’ve got to get out of here, Henry,” she pleaded tearfully. “She’s coming. I can’t hold her back anymore!”

 

“Then let her come,” Henry said and Helen held her breath. She knew that the right thing was to order the young man out of there, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I’m not afraid of her,” he said with conviction.

 

Ashley buried her face in her hands again, weeping softly. “She’s a monster, Henry. _I’m_ a monster.”

 

“So what, Ash?” he replied softly, tipping her tear-stained face to meet his gaze. “So am I, babe; so am I.”

 

Suddenly, Ashley morphed into her vampire face, hissing through her hellish fangs as her claws raked across his chest. Henry roared at the injuries; Helen felt more than one of O’Neill’s soldiers jump at the terrifying sound.

 

Then her beautiful boy’s face morphed and grew, forming a powerful muzzle; his chest muscles rippled as the pectorals bulked up and he developed his own set of deadly claws that ripped away his shirt. Helen watched with pride as he finished the transformation—not fully a wolf, but a nonetheless powerfully-muscled, man-beast—fur bristling … amber eyes glowing with primal energy and intelligence.

 

 _“What the hell?”_ Cameron Mitchell shouted in disbelief as Ashley and Henry screamed and roared at each other. Ashley swiped at him again, but she was hindered by her manacles as he twisted and wove away from her claws. However, each time he was within arm’s reach, Henry would get in a swipe of his own—making her bleed a little before she rapidly healed again.

 

Cassandra laughed meeting Helen’s gaze. “Henry’s a werewolf, Cam!” she said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “And Ashley’s now a vampire—and they love each other. They’ve always loved each other, haven’t they, Dr. Magnus?”

 

“Yes,” Helen replied smiling through her tears. “I do believe you are correct, Cassandra.”

 

“How long?” Janet croaked, staring at the surveillance monitor as if unable to reconcile the ferocious-looking creature there with the gentle, smart-aleck young man she’d known for the last twelve hours.

 

“How long has Henry been a werewolf?” Helen asked gently and the younger doctor nodded. “All his life—Henry was born a _Lycanthrope_ , Janet. He’s a Class 9 Hyper-accelerated Protean Life Form—a shape-shifter—all natural-born lycans are,” she explained as she returned her attention to the monitor; Henry was still dancing and weaving in and out of Ashley’s personal space, making her more and more frustrated.

 

“But there are few confirmed were-beings left in the world today,” she continued sadly. “Most were wiped out before the turn of the nineteenth century—superstition and the Church have always been close bedfellows. Henry’s entire Clan was murdered when he was a small child and I couldn’t locate another Clan to take him in. The only other Clan I’ve ever found in the last fifty years are really quite feral—they might have killed him. So, I brought him home with me to the Sanctuary.”

 

“And raised him with your _daughter_?” Jack O’Neill shouted in outrage.

 

“Of course,” Helen replied evenly, eyes flashing in anger as she realised he thought she’d been irresponsible with her daughter’s life and safety. “They’ve been best friends and playmates since Ashley was a baby.”

 

“Weren’t you afraid he might lose control of himself and change—accidentally harm her when they were children?” Janet asked quickly, obviously attempting to diffuse the situation between Helen and her commanding officer.

 

“Not at all, Janet,” Helen replied bringing her temper under firm control. “Henry’s always been a very sweet-natured child. When they were growing up, I was far more worried about _him_ with all the tortures he suffered at Ashley’s hands, than I was about her being hurt by him. In any case, from what research and information I could lay my hands on, natural-born lycans don’t develop the ability to change until puberty— _lycan puberty_ , which doesn’t happen until five to ten years _after_ their period of human puberty ends. To a mature lycan, I imagine Henry would be the equivalent of an adolescent, and a fairly young one at that.”

 

As they digested her words, she forged ahead quickly before they could mire her in more questions. “Now, Will and Kate will show you to the library,” she said. “I know that you have a few forms for me to sign, General—”

 

“And how would you know that?” O’Neill said suspiciously.

 

“Let’s just say that a little bird told me and leave it at that,” Helen replied evenly. “I try my damnedest to make sure that not much happens concerning my Sanctuaries that I don’t know about, General O’Neill—including your young lady’s search into my organisation’s history, your communications with your Pentagon associates, and the fact that you and your team hail from Colorado Springs, Cheyenne Mountain, specifically a few sublevels below NORAD, where you work for a certain classified project.”

 

O’Neill scowled darkly.

 

“And just how many Sanctuaries do you run, Dr. Magnus?” Samantha asked with surprised curiosity at the woman’s knowledge.

 

Helen met her gaze. “The Sanctuary Network is a global organisation, Samantha,” she replied. “There is at least one Sanctuary on each continent, except for Antarctica. The Network also has a number of safe-houses throughout the world, where Abnormals—and occasionally normal Humans—can find refuge from dangerous situations until the crisis has passed, or they can be relocated somewhere safer.”

 

She could see the surprise in their faces at the fact that she dealt with normal Human refugees as well. 

 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, it appears that Henry has tired out Ashley’s vampiric side—or at least frustrated her into submission,” she said glancing at the monitor before turning it off. “I’d like to go and bid my daughter a good morning before we get down to business.”

 

With that she turned on her heel and headed for the floor’s access to Ashley’s cell. The Big Guy grunted softly and followed her, his gentle presence a balm to the turmoil that roiled within her.

 

#

 

Henry smiled sheepishly as Helen entered, trying to hold up his tattered trousers with one hand, as he held Ashley’s hand in the other.

 

She returned his smile, kissing his cheek—still damp with the exertion of his transformations—before sitting on the edge of Ashley’s bed.

 

 _“Mom,”_ Ashley whispered as Helen leaned in to kiss her.

 

“Hello Ashley,” she croaked, her voice breaking under the weight of her tears as she gathered her daughter into her arms as best she could.

 

“I’m sorry ... I’m so sorry, Mom,” Ashley wailed despairingly. “I should have listened to you! I shouldn’t have gone on that mission ... shouldn’t have taken Henry there.”

 

“Shh love,” Helen replied, gently kissing her forehead again. “It’s all right—it’s going to be all right.”

 

“It’s not all right!” she cried desperately. “How can it ever be all right again, Mom? _Look at me!_ Look at what I’ve become! Look at what I’ve done! How can you forgive me? You should have killed me …”

 

Helen sat up and held her gaze. “I _am_ looking at you, Ashley,” she replied, her voice surprisingly firm and even. “I’m looking at you and I see _my daughter_ —my strong, beautiful, _brave_ daughter. Nothing the Cabal or _anyone_ can do will _ever_ change that. _They_ tried to destroy you—they tried to destroy everything that was good and strong and noble in you—yet, here you sit, my darling, here you sit!”

 

“But—”

 

Helen stopped her protest with one finger against her lips. “I’m already working on a way to neutralise the Source Blood,” she continued. “Once it’s been purged, I believe that many of the vampiric traits will disappear as well, and you’ll regain control over yourself and over any new abilities.”

 

“You can really cure me, Mom?”

 

Helen had never heard her baby sound so timid and fearful—not even when Ashley had _been_ a baby. As a child, even when she was most afraid, Ashley always maintained an air of courage as she faced her fears squarely. Helen hated that her fierce, proud daughter could be brought so low.

 

“As I said, it won’t be a cure so much as a purge,” she replied—now was not the time for false hope. “Do you remember Cassandra?”

 

Ashley nodded. “She helped us to escape,” she replied with an introspective look and Helen’s heart broke as she realised that Ashley was referring to _herself_ in the plural. “She is the one who can see the truth in people and all that lies beneath the surface. We trusted her and she did not fail us.”

 

Helen swallowed the lump in her throat and prayed that this was just temporary—a side-effect of having her psyche shattered into different personalities.

 

“Yes,” she croaked, cupping Ashley’s cheek. “Cassandra’s mother, Samantha, has a type of immunity that’s able to fight off the Source Blood as if it were some sort of parasite or infection. And her other mother, Janet, is a medical doctor, who is going to help me understand how Samantha’s altered immune system works. She’s going to help me duplicate it so that I can treat you. However, you will probably keep those genetic traits you inherited from your father and from me, namely your ability to teleport and your headstrong stubbornness.”

 

Ashley gave a wan smile at her attempt at humour. “Oh, joy,” she quipped softly.

 

“Oh, joy, indeed,” Helen chuckled, before sobering up again. “I won’t lie to you, Ashley; it’s going to be a long, hard road, but I will be there with you every step of the way, my darling—I promise.”

 

“And, so will I,” Henry said in a tone that left no room for argument.

 

“And I,” Big Guy said with a gentle snort.

 

(Songs quoted are from _goodnight, young novelist_ by Graydon James)

 

#

 


	24. Chapter 24

Dr. Daniel Jackson was in heaven; and seeing that he’d once dwelt in a realm that could be considered the closest thing to heaven, he should know that this room was _heaven_. His eyes flitted manically from one title to the next, unable to settle on just one, and his fingers itched to start pulling books from their shelves.

 

One title, on a particularly large tome at the end of its row, caught his attention; _Tak Kalach! Satak Ra!_ His mind automatically translated the title and it literally took his breath away.

 

“This can’t be here,” he croaked hoarsely in disbelief. “Teal’c, please tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.”

 

“Daniel?” Janet said in concern.

 

He pointed to the book, face ashen. “She has—she has a copy of _The Chronicle of Ra_.”

 

“That is _impossible_ , DanielJackson,” Teal’c said, looking utterly disconcerted and flabbergasted for one of the few times in Daniel’s memory. “There was only one known copy and it was destroyed when JackO’Neill blew up the ship at Abydos.”

 

“Actually, my dear Mr. Murray—or is it Mr. Teal’c? That is just one of _three_ known copies.” Helen Magnus’ firm voice came from behind them. They all turned, as if drawn by a magnet, to face her. “This one, one in the London Sanctuary, and the remarkably preserved original my friend, James Watson, and I copied them from. You may take it down, Dr. Jackson,” she said coming to stand next to him, smiling as he literally grabbed it from its shelf and opened it eagerly. “You’ll notice that it contains the original ancient Meroitic script as well as our translations. But I’ve never been happy with this translation; although the writing system was decipherable, the language appears to be quite a unique from Ancient Egyptian. We had to use a sort of Rosetta Stone primer with a very old, very strange form of Latin in order to translate what we managed to—and even that version of Latin was … _imperfectly_ understood.”

 

She moved to sit in one of the armchairs around the low coffee table and poured herself a cup of tea. “Why don’t you hang onto it, Dr. Jackson; I’m sure a renowned archaeologist and linguist like you would do a _much_ better job of translating it,” she said chuckling over the rim of her teacup at Daniel’s eagerness. “Considering you already seem to know the language quite well—” She took a sip of her tea as they all stared at her in shock. “Although, I find it rather surprising that you know of it at all, Dr. Jackson.”

 

Daniel glanced helplessly at Jack O’Neill and his thunderous expression said it all; _this woman knows far more than should have been possible_.

 

“Magnus,” Will Zimmerman said concern etched on his face. “What’s going on?”

 

She chuckled softly, but the humour didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It appears, William, that as far as they’re concerned, I know a lot more than I should; and for well over a century, have had access to things I should not. Now, as far as I know, our copies of _The Chronicle of Ra_ should be the only ones in the world, as my father acquired the original from the same place he acquired the Source Blood. So that begs the questions of how Dr. Jackson and Mr. Teal’c know about this document, how one manages to blow up a ship at the ancient Egyptian site of Abydos and I haven’t heard about it—considering my Cairo Sanctuary keeps a very close eye on the area—and _why_ is the American military involved?”

 

“And just where did your father acquire this book?” O’Neill asked belligerently, sitting down on the settee directly opposite her.

 

“He financed an expedition to a hidden ancient city that is said to have been the seat of power for the rulers of Earth about ten thousand years ago,” she replied, studying them shrewdly. Daniel knew that she was reading their expressions as she dropped her bombshell, and that they’d all given themselves away in shock. “Rulers of great power and longevity—they were said to have been Abnormals, and some believe that they were perhaps the greatest sentient beings to walk this Earth, but that’s still up for debate. However, the _Chronicle_ and the Source Blood are just a two of the artefacts the expedition brought back.”

 

Before anyone could speak, Mitchell asked, “And just where is this ancient city?”

 

The vein on the side of Jack’s head twitched and his face darkened with fury at the younger man’s question and all it gave away.

 

Helen Magnus smirked, lifting one elegant eyebrow.

 

“Cameron, shut up!” Vala snapped.

 

Magnus laughed. “Don’t be too harsh with the young man, Vala, General O’Neill,” she said brightly as Cameron bristled visibly at her mocking tone. “Believe me, I’ve found that they’re often quite tediously impetuous at this age. He has only added a bit of confirmation to what I’d already deduced and was relatively sure of. Now, I believe we can begin—and I warn you, you are going to tell me _everything_.”

 

She held up her hand to forestall further discussion, blue eyes narrowing and darkening. “And I mean _everything_ , General,” she said harshly, all trace of levity now gone from her cultured soprano. “I’ll sign all the _pretty_ little pieces of paper you want me and my associates to sign, but do not _think_ for a moment that I don’t know what your orders are—they are the standing orders that have come down from all governments for over a century to every _spy_ they’ve managed to get inside my Sanctuaries: _determine what_ assets _Helen Magnus possesses, both biological and technological, and how you can get control_.”

 

Daniel didn’t have to look at Jack to know Magnus was telling the truth.

 

“The governments of this world allow us to exist because they _cannot_ do what we can ... because ninety-five percent of this world’s Human population _cannot_ deal with Abnormals, so they pretend we do not exist or hunt us to extinction when denial is not possible. My people ensure the security of both populations. But, I will _not_ put the Abnormals of this world at risk by letting your government into the Sanctuary Network, and I will _never_ submit to their control any more than I would submit to the Cabal’s. Understand that now. We are, for the most part, _sentient beings_ , and we have a _right_ to exist.

 

“What I will allow is Dr. Jackson’s unfettered access to all my ancient books and scrolls written in those two languages and any others he might like to see, as well as access to all artefacts that my people and I have collected—provided he’s content to work on them in this Sanctuary and share his findings with me. In return, you will allow Dr. Fraiser to help me develop a treatment for my daughter. Only once Ashley is cured, or the Source Blood is at least purged from her body, will I _consider_ leading you to the ancient city. It is referred to in the original records as _Aevitere Bhalasa_ —the Eternal City of Bhalasaam.”

 

Daniel’s breath caught in his throat and he stared at her in awe gasping, “But I only discovered references to the Everlasting City—”

 

“You’re in no position to dictate terms!” Jack said angrily, cutting Daniel off mid-sentence.

 

Magnus rose, tall and regal like a queen, blue eyes flashing as she looked down at Jack in disdain. “General O’Neill, you have _no_ idea what position I am in, so don’t waste my _bloody time_ with your damned posturing! Now call those _vultures_ in Washington and present them with my terms, because we both know full well that you are not _allowed_ to turn me down without reporting in first. Believe me, I have _no_ doubt that they will be salivating for whatever they can get from me.”

 

She turned her gaze to Janet and continued more quietly, “Dr. Fraiser, I’ve taken the liberty of scanning your belongings and I now have a sample of the immune system co-factor. It would be faster and easier if I had your help, but understand—I _will_ help Ashley. Now, General O’Neill, while you’re deciding on what your next chess move should be, I’ll be in my lab working on a treatment for my daughter. And when you speak to the President, please do give _dear_ Henry my love and please inform him that I’ll be phoning him directly to have a short _chat_ regarding the reasons he never saw fit to inform me of Samantha’s existence.”

 

Helen Magnus turned on her heel and marched out of the room, her colleagues silently filing out behind her. All except Will Zimmerman, who closed the door behind Kate Freelander and turned again to face them.

 

“What do _you_ want?” Cameron asked irritably.

 

Ignoring the younger soldier, Zimmerman fixed his gaze on Jack’s weathered face. “I only wanted to give you a bit of—well, not so much advice, as some context for the last few months of Dr. Magnus’ life, General O’Neill,” he said quietly. “When Magnus contacted the Cabal to negotiate for Ashley’s release, they gave her an ultimatum, sir; her _daughter_ or the Sanctuary Network and all the Abnormals she’s sworn to protect.”

 

He held Jack’s gaze for a long, silent moment before continuing, “Magnus had one of her oldest friends create a weapon designed to kill anyone with Source Blood in their physiology. In the end, rather than allow one of the super-soldiers to kill her mother, _Ashley_ , in one last act of sanity, chose to teleport herself and the other girl through the Sanctuary’s EM shield while it was at full capacity. As Colonel Carter and Lieutenant Hailey can no doubt attest, no one should have survived that—her molecules should have been scattered to the four winds. That she did survive is a testament, I’d say, to the strength of will and character of the young woman Magnus raised. And for the last two months, a mother has been left to mourn the death of her only child.”

 

Turning again, he silently slipped from the room and closed the door.

 

 _“Oh my God,”_ Janet whispered, her face pale as a sheet. Sam reached out and grasped her trembling hands, holding them between her larger ones as if to warm them.

 

“Cassie, is he telling the truth?” Sam asked hoarsely.

 

“Oh yes,” the white-faced young woman replied. “If anything, he’s glossing over the full extent of the Cabal’s war with the Sanctuaries. They’d been positioning themselves for a long time, plotting and preparing for the right moment to bring Dr. Magnus down, Sam. And she’s actually used that weapon against Ashley—well, the first prototype, anyway. It only slowed Ashley and the other super-soldiers down before they rapidly became immune to it. That’s when she had her friend, Nicolas—I think his name is—redesign it to make it deadly with one shot. But in that first battle with the super-soldiers at the London Sanctuary, when the prototype didn’t work, Dr. Magnus locked those she could capture—including Ashley—in a room with a Fire Elemental like the one downstairs.”

 

“How did they get out?” Vala croaked, staring at her in shock.

 

“She didn’t capture all the super-soldiers,” Cassie replied quietly. “The ones outside the room broke in and rescued those who were trapped. But that’s what caused the most damage to the London Sanctuary; Helen Magnus nearly burned it to the ground with her daughter inside, rather than let it fall to the Cabal.”

 

An unnatural silence blanketed the room as they processed Cassie’s words.

 

“You read all that in Will’s mind just now,” Daniel said quietly and without condemnation; he knew Cassie, and he knew she would have avoided it if she could.

 

“Yes, I couldn’t help it,” she said as he sat on the arm of her chair and stroked her hair gently. She leaned her head against him and he slipped his arm about her shoulder. “ _He_ couldn’t help it. He’s unusually projective and it was at the top of his thoughts; he lost someone very dear to him in that battle.”

 

“I don’t suppose you read Magnus while she was talking about that lost Ancient city?” Jack asked irritably. “Damn, those idiots lost a lot of their cities back then.”

 

Jack’s familiar grousing broke the tension in the room and they all laughed heartily.

 

“Bhalasaam isn’t so much a lost city as it is a _hidden_ one, Jack,” Daniel tried to explain.

 

Cassie giggled uproariously. “Sorry, General Jack,” she said gasping. “No such luck—her mind’s almost as bad as T’s for me to get to even on the surface, and like Teal’c, it’s nearly as alien and twice as dark. If you want me to rip into her, then I’m sorry; I _can’t_ … I _won’t_ do it. So, don’t count on me ... like ever,” she said harshly, expression hardening.

 

“What about Will and the others,” Jack persisted.

 

“No can do,” she replied, her expression still hard and her eyes flashing disappointment. “They don’t know where it is—and only Will accompanied Dr. Magnus and her friends to the city to retrieve the Source Blood in order to cure the plague the Cabal had unleashed.”

 

“So, shouldn’t Will know where it is if he’s been there with her?” Vala asked curiously.

 

Cassie shook her head. “Only Dr. Magnus and her friends know,” she said. “They were teleported there by Ashley’s father—all Will knows is that it’s in a mountainous area somewhere.”

 

“Jack, enough!” Janet barked as he opened his mouth to speak again. “You can’t use her like some damned telepathic spy—I _won’t_ allow it.”

 

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Cassie said holding Jack’s gaze steadily. “I won’t allow it either. You know what to do, General. She’s offering Daniel _carte blanche_ to add to our knowledge of the Ancients and if she has this _Chronicle_ , then there may be more to that city than you can imagine—after all, we never did figure out where their base of operations was after their return from _you-know-where_ …”

 

The Lost City. _Atlantis_.

 

Jack nodded as she held his gaze for a significant moment before continuing, “All we have to do is help cure her daughter. And I’m sure if they ask nicely, she’ll even open her medical files to Mom and certain aspects of her technology to Sam. But she won’t willingly compromise her people’s security, General. She’s worked too long and too hard—made too many sacrifices and lost far too much—to _ever_ do that.”

 

#


	25. Chapter 25

“I’m curious, Dr. Magnus,” Daniel began as they all settled down in the library again after the non-disclosure forms had been signed. “Where were you in 1928?”

 

Sam studied Jack out of the corner of her eye; to anyone else, he appeared relaxed, even indolent sprawled there on the delicate, antique settee. But Sam could see the tension in his face ... in the clench of his jaw.

 

Magnus froze for a moment and Sam was drawn to the introspective look on her face. She wondered if that was the way _she_ , Samantha, looked when she was thinking.

 

“I was in South America then—the Amazon to be precise,” she replied with a faraway expression that made her look years younger. “I was studying a rare species of Earth Elementals from about February 1928 to the summer of 1929. The tribes who lived there referred to them as the _Spirits of the Forest_ and believed that they were responsible for making the plants grow and maintaining a healthy balance in the ecology.”

 

“And were they?” Jack asked.

 

She met his gaze and held it unwaveringly. “To an extent, yes; they could affect plant growth. But their role in the rainforest is far deeper than that—you can say that they are its guardians, its protectors.” Magnus turned her gaze to Daniel again. “Where are you going with this, Dr. Jackson? What do my whereabouts, from over three quarters of a century ago, have to do with anything?”

 

“Around that time, did you ever hear about a giant stone artefact—a large ring being discovered buried on the Giza plateau not far from the Great Pyramid?”

 

A strange look ghosted across Helen Magnus’ face. “No,” she replied thoughtfully with a crooked, little half-smile. “Not at that time, but after the Second World War, James—Watson that is—brought it up. He discussed with me a classified project involving a large stone ring that his good friend, Ernest Littlefield, had been working on with a Dr. Peter Langford, an archaeologist of some renown. However, Ernest was killed in a lab explosion—”

 

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Jack exploded and Sam couldn’t help but chuckle. “Does no one think about operational security?”

 

Magnus grinned and relaxed back in her seat with a chuckle of her own. “So _that’s_ what this is all about,” she said eyes twinkling merrily. “James and I figured Langford had found the _Shau’pi_ … the Ring of the Gods spoken of in the _Chronicle_ and other ancient writings. It was also known as _Astria Porta_ —the Portal to the Heavens or Gateway to the Stars—”

 

 _“Aw crap!”_ Jack closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as the others laughed nervously in utter disbelief. “That’s it!” Jack ranted. “I give up—Daniel, she’s all yours.”

 

“Dr. Magnus, if you and James Watson knew what the artefact was—why didn’t Watson let Ernest know?” Daniel asked curiously. “You said they were friends.”

 

Magnus nodded. “They were—in fact, James was planning to recruit Ernest into the Sanctuary Network as his protégé after the war, much in the same way he eventually recruited Declan,” she replied.

 

Sam’s eyes flicked to the stony-faced man standing behind Magnus; she and Declan hadn’t said a word to each other since the revelations of the night before.

 

Magnus smiled fondly. “I remember that Ernest had a positively uncanny knack for numbers and patterns,” she said. “He would have made an excellent addition to our team. However, he’d sent that covert message asking for James’ help only weeks before he died—James was known in certain circles as a great thinker and a solver of arcane puzzles. By the time we received it and figured out what Ernest was referring to, it was too late. Things were chaotic for quite a while after the war—we were still in London at the time, rebuilding, and well, there was no such thing as instantaneous communications back then, besides the telephone, and nothing really secure. When we tried to get in touch with him through our own covert channels, we learned that he had died. We snooped around a little and found he’d been involved with a classified project that Langford was spearheading for the United States government, so—”

 

She gave a little shrug. “We backed off—decided that if Ernest couldn’t figure it out, perhaps they weren’t ready to figure it out.” Her mouth tugged up in another knowing little smile. “I take it you’ve now figured the _Shau’pi_ out.”

 

“The correct pronunciation is _Chappa’ai_ , DoctorHelenMagnus, and I am Teal’c,” Teal’c said with one of his polite little bows. To Sam’s surprise, Magnus rose and bowed formally to him.

 

“Thank you, Teal’c,” she said, “for the correction and for honouring me with your name. Tell me, whom did you serve as a _Jah-fah_ general?”

 

Even Teal’c stared at her this time, his mouth agape with shock. She reached for his hat, asking for silent permission; he bowed his head so that she could remove it.

 

“I saw a bit of your tattoo when Declan knocked your hat askew last night,” she said, running gentle fingers over the golden symbol adorning Teal’c’s forehead, as her own people stared at them in surprise. “I didn’t realise its significance until now. According to the _Chronicle_ , Ra took the greatest warriors from the strongest tribes from Nubia to China and as far north as the Rhine. He changed them—making them even stronger. He then bestowed these _Jah-fah_ armies on his siblings as prizes in return for their loyalty to him as Lord above them all. Each warrior was tattooed with a unique crest upon his forehead, depending on whose army he served in. But the tattoo of the generals of each army was slightly different—for it was made of pure gold.”

 

“I served as First Prime of Apophis,” Teal’c replied, eyes wide with respect. “But I no longer serve the _Goa’uld_ ... the False Gods. JackO’Neill offered me a chance to free my people from thousands of years of servitude and slavery, and in the last decade, our team—including SamanthaCarter, DanielJackson, ValaMalDoran and CameronMitchell—indeed, all of the SGC have helped me to do so. Now, few Jaffa still serve the False Gods—most of the Goa’uld are dead.”

 

 _“Goa’uld?”_ Kate asked in confusion. “False gods?”

 

Magnus smiled shrewdly. “Yes, Apophis is another name for the Ancient Egyptian god Apep or Apepi,” she said. “Brother to Ra and also known as the Serpent of the Nile.”

 

“But not even _Egyptians_ believe in those gods anymore,” Kate complained. “So where in the world would you find people who’ve served Ancient Egyptian gods for _thousands_ of years till now?”

 

“Most likely nowhere in _this_ world, Kate,” Helen Magnus replied with a wide grin; holding Teal’c’s gaze as her newest employee gaped in confusion. “What is the name of your world, Master Teal’c?”

 

Teal’c bowed again to her, acknowledging her correct deduction. “My homeworld is called Chuu’lak, DoctorHelenMagnus.”

 

“His _homeworld_?” Declan said incredulously.

 

“Oh my God!” Will gasped simultaneously, eyes shining in wonder. “So, the _Astria Porta_ —”

 

“Is literally a _‘portal to the stars’_ , William,” Magnus said. “And the United States military has been using it to explore other worlds.” As the Sanctuary team digested her words, she turned her gaze to Sam with a smile that softened her features. “You’ve _walked_ upon alien worlds, haven’t you, Samantha.”

 

“Yes,” Sam replied quietly, surprised at the undeniable pride she read in the other woman’s eyes.

 

“Oh, how marvellous,” Magnus said, obviously enchanted by the thought. “What a brave new world you live in.”

 

“Actually, Sam is the one who created the dialling program that works Earth’s Stargate, Dr. Magnus,” Cassandra said proudly, chuckling as Sam blushed. “The original device that dialled the Gate was lost.”

 

“Well, it was Daniel who translated the cartouche that gave us the first Gate address, and he found the library containing other addresses in the Stargate system,” Sam said trying to deflect the older woman’s impressed scrutiny.

 

“But you’re the one who kept the whole jerry-rigged get-up running for more than a decade,” Jack said obviously revelling in his friend’s discomfort at being the centre of Magnus’ attention. As Sam started to protest again, he cut her off. “Yeah, yeah ...  there are other scientists on the project, but you do seem to be the one who pulls our fat out of the fire most of the time.”

 

Sam felt herself blushing deeply again at Jack’s praise as Will Zimmerman said, turning his discerning gaze to Cassie with a smile, “I guess we know now why knowledge of you is classified, Cassandra—you’re an alien as well, aren’t you.”

 

“Yes,” the young woman replied as the other Sanctuary natives stared in shock.

 

“ _Cassie_ , is there something you neglected to inform me about?” Jack said in exasperation.

 

“Would you believe it just sort of came out?” she replied sheepishly. “They knew I was a telepath and possibly more, and they were asking questions I couldn’t answer, so I told them I was classified.”

 

Magnus nodded. “Cassandra is unlike any Human telepath I’ve had the privilege of knowing through the Sanctuary Network,” she said. “She has excellent shields and control over what she tunes into from other people, unless a strong surface thought intrudes, or is directed specifically at her—”

 

“You mean your telepaths have no control?” Cassandra cried in horror.

 

“Some eventually learn how to shield their thoughts after a fashion,” Magnus said quietly. “But many hear all thoughts, all the time from everyone within a certain radius of their position.”

 

“But-but that’s insane!”

 

“Many do go insane, Cassandra,” Magnus replied quietly, holding the young woman’s stricken gaze. “The rate of suicide among telepaths is very high. Others are misdiagnosed with schizophrenia or with a host of other mental illnesses and spend years in institutions, where, even if we do find them, it is generally too late to help them. And there’s a limit to how much we can help those we _do_ manage to find in time. The best we’ve been able to do with many of them is to teach them to concentrate on one person at a time and how to ignore the rest within their personal space, rather like the way you would concentrate on someone you’re speaking to in a crowded room. Even so, most do prefer to live extremely solitary lives, keeping people away from their personal space as much as possible, because once someone comes into their line of sight, they are inundated by a flood of thoughts and images that are not their own.”

 

“Is there no one to teach them how to shield their minds?” Cassie asked desperately now.

 

“How, Cassandra?” Magnus asked gently. “How does a deaf person teach a hearing child to speak or to sing if there are no hearing people around? If they can only feel vibrations? How can they correct errors in pronunciation, tone and pitch if they cannot _hear_ the mistakes or even know that a mistake has been made in the first place? They can read books to try to understand and explain _sound_ in the abstract, but they cannot _know_. And we don’t even have _books_ to consult in order to help our telepathic children,” she said, frustration very evident.

 

“Older telepaths are of limited help, because many can’t stand to be in the same room with others, while those who can tolerate it have only what they’ve learned from us to impart on younger telepaths and it doesn’t work in every case. We have found, however, if three telepaths can learn to work in concert, they can support each other … they can help each other filter out the background noise and one might catch things that the other two might miss when they need to shield—block everything out. They’ve created a cadre of teachers amongst themselves to help younger telepaths. But not all telepaths can learn to accomplish this and they must begin when they’re relatively young or as soon as possible after they begin to manifest their abilities. But most are not found until they’ve spent _years_ in institutions, lost in a haze of drugs and other ineffective or downright barbaric treatments. However, all Human telepaths we know of come to their abilities with no shields, and for some reason I’ve yet to discover, it’s not something they naturally know how to do.”

 

“You indicated that your mothers taught you how to shield your mind, Cassandra,” said Declan McCrae speculatively, studying the shocked, silent group from the SGC. “Can you explain how?”

 

“No, I believe I said that my mothers taught me _manners_ ,” the young woman replied smiling. “They taught me not to go dipping into people’s minds without permission and they taught me how to ask permission. The shields were pretty much there from the beginning—they just taught me how to strengthen them when I needed to so that I’m not overwhelmed.”

 

“How?” Helen Magnus croaked looking from the two women to their daughter and back again. “As I understand it, other than Samantha’s _Source Blood_ induced ability, neither of you is a natural telepath.”

 

Sam and Janet looked at each other and then turned their gaze to General O’Neill.

 

“Oh, for crying out loud!” he exploded and Cassandra burst into giggles.

 

“Sam sort of built me a bio-feedback machine in our garage,” she said fighting to bring her laughter under control. “Mom helped her customise it to my physiology. It can be tuned to my telepathic brainwaves and helped me to refine my control over my abilities.”

 

“But we’ve also tried bio-feedback with our telepaths with very limited—and ultimately little—success,” Magnus said as she stared at them in confusion.

 

“That’s because you’re probably missing a few special add-ons that aren’t usually available on commercial bio-feedback machines,” Cassie replied with a grin. “Sam’s had some experiences that gave her special insight into my abilities, and being a physicist, she realised that there was a _subspace_ component to my telepathy, which she and Mom hadn’t accounted for when they first built my machine. She found a way to compensate for it.”

 

 _“Subspace?”_ the Sanctuary leader croaked, blue eyes wide with shock. _“My God!”_

 

#


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting into new chapters now that have not been posted before. Family Day weekend, so I thought I'd push through to get this one edited and posted also. But chapter additions may slow down a bit as I get the new chapters written and edited. Hope you can bear with me!
> 
> Enjoy!

Janet stared at the data in her hands, simultaneously appalled and amazed at its existence outside the SGC. It had taken the Pangarans _decades_ of research to derive with the original form of the drug Tretonin, which they’d subsequently used to achieve perfect health and extend their lives immensely. The only drawback was that it supplanted their original immune system, making them dependent on the drug, which was produced from larvae spawned by a captive Tok’ra queen. And once addicted, they would die without it.

 

It had then taken Janet and her team months to learn to manufacture it artificially, and then further _years_ of research, in consultation with the Tok’ra, to modify it sufficiently to mitigate its deadly side effect in Humans. Even so, it was used very sparingly by the SGC. Only the Jaffa used it on a regular basis, to free themselves from the dependence and slavery inherent in having to carry a Goa’uld larva.

 

She lifted her gaze to meet Helen Magnus’ eager face. This data wasn’t even an avenue she—or the Tok’ra for that matter—had thought to pursue in all her years of working with Tretonin or studying Goa’uld physiology. Yet she should have considering that the Goa’uld and Tok’ra produced Tretonin naturally and that _naquadah_ was so important to their physiology and survival.

 

 _“Please,”_ the woman croaked, blue eyes pleading with her. “Am I on the right track?”

 

“Yes,” Janet replied simply.

 

“But this element in Samantha’s system, it’s not found here on Earth,” she continued hoarsely.

 

Janet nodded. “No,” she replied. “It’s called _naquadah_ and the worlds on which it is found in any great quantity are often quite hostile to Human life.”

 

“But you can procure it for me in sufficient quantity to treat Ashley?”

 

“Yes, I could get you a sample of the elemental form,” Janet said slowly, knowing it would be a fight with Jack and General Landry to do so.

 

 _Oh well, in for a penny—in for a pound_ , she thought ruefully as hope sparkled in Magnus’ blue eyes. And considering the grasp Magnus must have for _abnormal_ physiology in order to come up with this treatment in such a short time, if she played this right, the Sanctuary leader could prove to be an invaluable colleague outside the confines of the SGC, the Military and the Government.

 

“But it wouldn’t be as useful to you as the organically derived, biologically active form,” she continued, logging onto her laptop and opening a highly-classified file on the organo-metalloid proteins she’d been able to harvest from a number of symbiotes and then back-engineer over the years. “We first came across it, outside a symbiote, in the body of a ten-year-old girl, whose entire people had been wiped out by a Goa’uld.”

 

 _“Cassandra ...”_ Helen whispered; her pale face stricken by the realisation.

 

Janet nodded grimly. “An entire people destroyed in order to turn a little girl into a weapon capable of destroying our Stargate, our headquarters and anything within at least a twenty-mile radius.”

 

_“Oh God.”_

 

“I can’t get into the details, but needless to say, we were able to avert that catastrophe,” Janet continued. “But it did leave Cassie with the ability to sense the presence of the Goa’uld parasite; you see, _naquadah_ strengthens their physiology ... allows them to better control their hosts, but it also allows them to sense who is Goa’uld. Then one day, Sam came home from a mission and immediately, Cassie knew that she was no longer Samantha Carter—”

 

“She’d been taken over by a Goa’uld parasite,” Helen supplied, quickly following the narrative.

 

Janet smiled. “Yes—and no,” she replied and the other woman looked at her in confusion. “The parasite was a Goa’uld in physiology, but as it turned out, she was not one in philosophy. You see, the Goa’uld are intelligent, snake-like organisms that are born with the genetic memory of all Goa’uld preceding them in their lineage.”

 

Helen gaped at her in shock. _“Genetic memory?”_ she croaked. “Bloody hell ... there are a few Abnormals for whom we suspect that this might be true, but we’ve never been able to prove it definitively.”

 

Janet nodded before continuing. “We also know that they originally had a much different host than humans—ones that shared their original homeworld—but we’ve since found that in addition to being ruthless and megalomaniacal, they’re also rather vain and thoroughly selfish creatures. Ra was the first to find Earth apparently. From what we’ve pieced together, his host was dying, but he found that he could survive in the body of a human host ... a young Egyptian boy he captured. He also found that in a human host, he could use his technology to preserve himself indefinitely—not to mention that humans were apparently more aesthetically pleasing and had developed concepts of written language, art, culture and rudimentary technologies that their previous hosts, the _Unas_ , did not have. They also apparently found our predisposition towards abstract thinking a bonus.

 

“However, the technology they used to sustain themselves for thousands of years, while keeping their hosts young and beautiful, also caused their minds to become warped ... fed their predisposition towards megalomania and their psychopathic tendencies. At that point on Earth, with all the gods Humans worshiped—”

 

“With their advanced technology, they would have appeared to be gods to those primitive peoples,” Helen said.

 

“Exactly,” Janet replied. “And they relished those roles—exploited them to their fullest and eventually bought into their own delusions of grandeur. It was at this time that they took a lot of people from Earth and settled them throughout the galaxy—some to become slaves mainly for their mines, others became Jaffa, while still others were experimented upon as they tried to produce _Hok’taur_ , genetically advanced humans bred to become the perfect hosts. Earth is considered to be the First World ... the birthplace of Humanity in the Milky Way ... and out among the stars we are known as the _Tau’ri_. We know of at least three such experiments to try to produce _Hok’taur_ , and among them, the Hankans—Cassie’s people. However, one Goa’uld queen was apparently born with a slight flaw—”

 

“She didn’t have the genetic memory?” Helen asked breathlessly.

 

Janet chuckled softly. “Oh no, she kept that, but lost the psychopath gene,” she replied. “Egeria was apparently able to selectively pass on what _she_ wanted to her offspring. She passed on her memories, but not the need to dominate their hosts or other species. She impressed on her children that symbiosis was preferable to parasitism and they became the foundation of a resistance movement against Ra and the Goa’uld System Lords—”

 

 _“The Tok’ra!”_ Helen gasped.

 

“You know about them?” Janet said in shock at her excitement.

 

“Towards the end of the _Chronicles of Ra_ , there is a passage about a misguided group of—well, what must have been Goa’uld youth, who tried to raise an army against Ra, but were cut down and destroyed. As punishment, their names were erased from all memory, or so the story goes.”

 

Janet grinned. “Wow. Well, needless to say, Ra was just blowing hot air—the Tok’ra weren’t all killed. Many got away, but over the millennia, although they’d lost Egeria, they did continue her philosophy. They live in symbiosis with their hosts, not dominating their minds or suppressing their personalities the way the Goa’uld do, but truly _sharing_ their bodies. In exchange, the host receives almost perfect health and ages very slowly for about four hundred years—that’s how long a symbiote can sustain a human host without the use of the life-prolonging technology of a sarcophagus.”

 

“I take it that _not_ using this technology keeps them from becoming megalomaniacs like their Goa’uld brethren,” Helen said shrewdly.

 

“That’s right,” Janet replied. “Although many Tok’ra do still tend to be rather autocratic and dismissive of our _primitive_ understanding of science and technology—even though we, and more specifically, Sam, have pulled their fat out of the fire a number of times. The Tok’ra also do not take hosts against their will—well not normally anyway. We first encountered one when she was being chased by a Goa’uld assassin. She was hiding in the body of a villager on a planet we were trying to evacuate during a Goa’uld attack. Sam was giving the injured man CPR when the symbiote jumped into her. When she came back through the Gate, she seemed perfectly normal, and it was only after she threatened Cassandra that we realised what had happened—”

 

“What? You mean you don’t examine your teams when they return through the Stargate—put them in _quarantine_?” Magnus demanded, eyes flashing furiously in outrage.

 

“We do, Helen,” Janet said quietly. “In fact, up until a few weeks before, each SG team member was subjected to a full examination and an MRI every time they returned. Then the _bean counters_ in Washington got a hold of our budget and decided it wasn’t necessary unless there was reason to suspect—”

 

“Let me get this straight,” she said in disbelief. “A secret Air Force project is sending explorers to other _planets_ and they figured _this_ was a good time to _nickel-and-dime_ people’s health—and not to mention the security of _this_ planet!”

 

Janet gave a grim chuckle. “Yeah, go figure,” she replied. “Anyway, without an MRI, generally the only physical way to detect a Goa’uld is feeling for a lump at the back of the neck near the base of the skull and the entry wound. Except this symbiote entered Sam through her mouth while she attempted mouth to mouth resuscitation of the villager, and made its way to her brain by burrowing through at the back of her soft palate. By the time she returned and I had a chance to examine her, given the symbiote’s rapid healing abilities, all that was left was a slight abrasion at the back of her throat.”

 

“So, what happened?”

 

“After she threatened Cassie in an attempt to keep her quiet, she tried to escape through the Stargate with one of the teams scouting for a new world for the refugees. However, we were able to capture and hold her while I tried to figure out how to get this Goa’uld out of Sam’s head without killing her—our previous experience showed that they have no compunction about killing a host rather than relinquish control. Anyway, this is when she revealed that she was a Tok’ra, Jolinar of Melkshur, an agent for the resistance against the Goa’uld System Lords. She pleaded with us to let her go as she had vital information that she needed to get to her people. She claimed that she was being chased by an _ash’rak_ , an implacable assassin the System Lords had set on her, and if he caught her, both she and Sam would die. However, if we let her go through the Stargate to her people, she promised she would release Sam and send her back to us.

 

“Needless to say, we didn’t believe her,” Janet said ruefully as she studied Magnus’ rapt face. “To make a long story short, the ash’rak, disguised as one of our own soldiers, did catch up to her and kill her, but Jolinar had released Sam from their blending and as she was dying, she kept herself from releasing a toxin that dying Goa’uld often released into the bodies of their hosts rather than give up the host. Anyway, when she died, Jolinar left Sam not only with the _naquadah_ in her blood, but some genes that resulted in those alien proteins, as well as a resistance to diseases and other parasites setting up shop, and a resistance to a lot of drugs with sensitivity to a host of others. And more importantly, somehow, she left Sam her memories as well. Later, we were able to use this _gift_ to help find and form an alliance with the Tok’ra.”

 

“My Lord,” Magnus said quietly. “Samantha carries this Jolinar’s _memories_? How extraordinary!”

 

“It’s not really something she wants,” Janet replied hoarsely. “Her nightmares are enough to make me wish she’d never been subjected to that experience, despite the ... _advantages_.”

 

“I see.”

 

They were silent for a few moments before Janet cleared her throat and continued, “Our experiences, mainly with the Tok’ra and the Jaffa, have given us insight into how Goa’uld physiology works.”

 

“The Jaffa?” Magnus asked in confusion. “How do they inform on Goa’uld physiology?”

 

“Your _Chronicle_ tells that Ra changed the Jaffa armies to make them stronger—” Janet said and Magnus nodded. “Well the changes were genetic and made them not only the perfect foot-soldiers—those changes also made them the perfect incubators for Goa’uld larvae.”

 

“Teal’c carries a Goa’uld parasite?” Magnus asked in alarm. “Why didn’t my scans pick it up?”

 

“Because Teal’c no longer carries one,” Janet replied. “Some years ago, the larva was damaged beyond its ability to repair, and we were unable to procure another one for him. But we were able to save Teal’c’s life with the use of Tretonin. Now, most of the Free Jaffa use the drug instead of depending on Goa’uld larvae. You see, blending with a host is easier if a larva is able to mature inside a human. So, in order to produce the Jaffa, the Goa’uld destroyed their immune system and the larva acts as a Jaffa’s immune system until it matures—at which time it’s removed and replaced with another larva. It’s a system that grants them long lives and great strength—”

 

“But has kept them enslaved to the Goa’uld for millennia,” Magnus said reaching the inevitable conclusion. “Exactly how long do Jaffa live?” she asked curiously.

 

Janet chuckled. “Well, how old do you think Teal’c is?”

 

Magnus shot her a piercing look. “Before this I would have placed his age at about thirty-five to forty-five years.”

 

Janet’s chuckles exploded into full-blown laughter. “You of all people should know by now not to judge people by their _apparent_ ages, Helen,” she said, enjoying the opportunity to rib the extraordinary Dr. Magnus. “I think you can safely say he’s older than you. Teal’c is one hundred and sixty-four years old,” she said as Magnus’ blue eyes grew wide and round, reminding her of Sam when faced with something earth-shattering.

 

“Although, technically, he’s only one hundred and fourteen chronologically by this universe’s reckoning,” Janet said chuckling again.

 

“Excuse me?” Magnus asked in shock.

 

“Something about being caught outside of normal time in a temporal bubble and it taking Sam fifty years to figure out how to reverse the flow of time to get them out of it and save the team,” Janet said ruefully. “Please don’t ask—math and physics were never my forte. But one of the team members had to stay old—remain isolated in another field outside of the time reversal—in order to prevent them from making the same mistake that resulted in them being trapped in the bubble in the first place. Anyway, although it’s not a cure, as long as Teal’c and the other Free Jaffa take the Tretonin, they’ll live very long lives.”

 

 _“Bloody hell!”_ Magnus breathed; she met Janet’s gaze with shining eyes. “Samantha _reversed_ the flow of _time_ itself?”

 

Janet nodded, smiling at the blatant awe in the older woman’s expression. A moment later she was surprised as Magnus cupped her jaw gently, her eyes searching Janet’s face with frightening intensity.

 

“She did it for you, didn’t she,” she said softly. “Samantha broke all the laws of physics to return to you and Cassandra.”

 

“Yes,” Janet replied hoarsely, well aware of what she was admitting to and shocked at the tack Magnus’ mind had immediately taken. She wasn’t used to outsiders commenting on her relationship with Sam. But then, while they didn’t exactly flaunt it, she and Sam hadn’t taken any particular pains with concealing their relationship since coming to the Sanctuary.

 

There were tears in Helen Magnus’ eyes as she gathered a startled Janet into a tight hug. “I am so glad, Janet,” she whispered. “I am so glad she’s found such love and family.”

 

“Th-Thank you,” Janet replied as she moved awkwardly out of the other woman’s embrace, feeling her own tears on her cheeks. Holding her gaze, Janet asked the question she knew Sam wanted to ask, but was afraid to. “Helen, what does Sam mean to you?”

 

Helen gave her a sad little smile. “Honestly, I don’t know,” she replied. “I haven’t had time to really think about it, but from the moment I saw her, it was like a connection awakening deep inside—a feeling almost as strong as what I felt when I held Ashley for the first time—and yet it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I suppose it would depend entirely on how _Samantha_ feels about me. I doubt she would see me as her mother; she’s already had a mother ... parents ... so I think she is very much the daughter of Marianne and Jacob Carter. And I have my own daughter, who needs me now more than ever. But I know I would not mind having a sister or a friend—I will take whatever relationship Samantha is comfortable with.”

 

Janet had to ask. “And if she doesn’t want any relationship with you?”

 

Helen returned her attention to the molecular structure of Tretonin. Her voice, when it came, was low and hoarse and _pained_. “Then I will live with it, Janet, just as I have learned to live with a lot of things.”

 

#


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long time between postings; life and other stories I want to tell may get in the way, but I will get there in the end. Enjoy!

Cassandra Fraiser stood at a library window overlooking the Sanctuary’s grounds. The sun shone brightly, banishing the shadows of the last couple of days.

 

In the garden, a middle-aged woman sat at a small outdoor table with two young men. One youth sat across from her, pen rapidly scratching across a large sheet of white paper.

 

The second young man, dressed in a heavy sweater, sat on the ground, leaning against the woman’s legs, basking in the sunshine as she stroked his hair. Cassie watched as they laughed at something before carrying on their conversation.

 

She imagined they were a mother and her two sons; they seemed blessedly normal. However, the sketch the artistic boy tore from his pad spoke of anything but _normality_. Even though she couldn’t make it out from such a distance, and had no doubt that it was something exquisite, she knew it should not have been possible in such a short time. Nor should the other five she’d watched him produce in the last half hour.

 

He hunched over his sketchpad and began to draw again.

 

Daniel’s muttering drew her attention back into the library. The archaeologist seemed to be having an argument with himself—something to do with the proper conjugation of a verb in Ancient.

 

Cassie sighed, shook her head and quietly left the room. As she wandered down the hall towards the stairs, she felt it. A tidal wave of fear and pain ... and _shame_ overwhelmed her.

 

 _Ashley_.

 

Almost as if they had a will of their own, her feet carried her down, down ... unerringly down into the bowels of the building past numerous doors, both opened and closed.

 

She hesitated a moment outside the door, reluctant to intrude on the other girl’s privacy. Again, she was hit by a shockwave of raw anguish. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and slipped inside.

 

Ashley lay shackled to a hospital bed, the top half inclined at about a forty-five-degree angle. Cassie’s entrance immediately drew her tear-filled gaze. The two young women stared at each other.

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Ashley demanded belligerently, blue eyes burning with despair and fear.

 

“You don’t have to be ashamed,” Cassie said gently, closing the door behind her.

 

“What do you know about it?” the other girl snarled, eyes darkening with rage. “What do you know about _anything_?”

 

Cassie smirked; she sensed that once they got past all their baggage, she and Ashley Magnus could be great friends. But it wouldn’t do to let Ashley get the upper hand in any argument—it wouldn’t do at all ... at least not right now.

 

“I’m an alien girl with super-powers living in suburban America with not one, but _two_ mothers in the military and a whole base full of soldier boys and generals I call _uncle_ ,” she said as the other girl stared at her in shock. “All my people were wiped out by a megalomaniacal alien parasite—who _thought_ she was a god—so that she could turn me into a living bomb to blow up Earth’s Stargate. And in case you don’t know what a Stargate is, it’s an alien device that disintegrates you to a cloud of energy, flings you light years across space, where you hopefully get integrated back with all your component atoms in the right order by the Stargate on another planet. It’s also the device that my Mum, Sam—she’s the blonde one that looks remarkably like _your_ mother—spent more than a decade blindly throwing herself through in order to explore other worlds.”

 

“You’re serious,” Ashley croaked after a few moments of stunned silence.

 

“As a heart attack,” Cassie replied. “So, I think you could say that I know a few things—and did I mention that this alien parasite was responsible for genetically engineering me ... engineering my people to be the perfect, super-human hosts for her? My powers turned on when I turned sixteen, and let’s just say I wasn’t _Sweet Little Mary Sunshine_ for a while there. I nearly burnt out my own brain, did burn Janet’s hand—she’s my Mom, the tiny brunette doctor with the Napoleon complex. I also nearly _killed_ her when I threw her into a concrete wall because she said something in complete innocence that _pissed_ me off. You saw what I did to those people holding us—Janet is a hundred pounds sopping wet. The _only_ thing that saved her life was that I’d just got my powers and didn’t have enough control to throw her as hard as I’m able.”

 

Again, the silence settled between them, punctuated only by Ashley’s ragged breathing and a deluge of tears.

 

“She forgives you, Ashley,” Cassandra said softly. “Your mother forgives you—I don’t think it would ever occur to her _not_ to. I know it will take time to forgive yourself and you should take that time, but at the risk of sounding like a Chinese fortune cookie, you also need to _accept_ your mother’s forgiveness ... if not for yourself, then for her. I know I don’t need to tell you how horribly guilty she feels for not being able to save you … for believing that you’d died.”

 

Ashley’s watery gaze was more hopeful now as she stopped crying and sniffled quietly.  Cassie plucked a couple of tissues from the box on the small table behind her and gently wiped the other girl’s face.

 

“Not so much Chinese fortune cookie as Jedi Zen-babble,” Ashley quipped hoarsely with a wan smile.

 

Cassie laughed. “Which would make you my _Padawan Learner_ ,” she replied, giggling harder at the other girl’s outraged expression.

 

“Watch it, Alien Girl; I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”

 

“Ah, but who said that wisdom comes with age, my young _Padawan_ ,” she said sagely. “In my opinion, wisdom comes with experience, not necessarily age. After all, there are lots of old farts out there who are about as wise as a puddle of mud—they may have put a lot of years behind them, but not very many experiences.”

 

They fell silent again for a few moments before Ashley admitted in a small voice, “I’m afraid … I can’t control her and I’m afraid of what she’ll do.”

 

“There is no _her_ ,” Cassie said quietly. “There’s only _you_ , Ashley, and I think that’s what you’re most afraid of.”

 

Ashley’s anger flared white-hot. “If I wanted that psychological, touchy-feely _crap_ , I’d have talked to Will when he came peddling it!” she shouted.

 

“And you forget that I’ve been in your head, _darling_ ,” Cassie said evenly; the other girl flinched. “And I know the truth about you. I know the truth even your _mother_ has tried _not_ to know as she watched you grow up—the daughter of two _Source Blood_ -changed Abnormals—and you’re desperate to keep her from finding out, aren’t you?”

 

Ashley whimpered helplessly; Cassie continued, brutal and cold, because she dared not show any warmth. At least not yet.

 

“The Cabal may have exaggerated them with their tortures—split them into separate personalities—but they’ve _always_ been there, haven’t they? Huntress, Ash … and especially _Monster_.”

 

Ashley began to cry again in earnest; harsh, wracking sobs that shook her frame. Another wave of shame washed over Cassandra as she continued her brutality.

 

“And even before you knew _who_ your father was, despite your mother’s attempts to keep that knowledge from you, you always knew deep down _what_ he was—because you knew _yourself_.”

 

“I’m a killer like him,” Ashley cried desperately. “A _monster_!”

 

“Monster, yes,” Cassie said gently as she retrieved some more tissues and wiped the girl’s face. “But not a killer; no, not like him. We’re all monsters of some sort under the skin—even me, my mothers, my family … even your mother, Henry and Big Guy … even your mother’s Human employees to some extent. But Helen Magnus didn’t raise a killer any more than my mothers raised a killer,” she said holding Ashley’s hopeful gaze. “Any more than Sam’s parents or General O’Neill’s or our friend Teal’c’s parents raised killers.

 

“You think your mother doesn’t know you, Ashley? You think she doesn’t know _who_ and _what_ you are? I think that even before she was conscious of it, your mother knew that she needed to raise a soldier … to channel Monster and Huntress and even Ash towards a noble cause—defend the weak, the helpless … and even the not-so-helpless. She taught you to act with honour, to use your killer instincts to fight for what is right, what is just, and yes … even to kill for it when necessary. She’s _never_ taught you to kill indiscriminately or wantonly for pleasure, and until the Cabal did this to you, you never had—you never wanted to. She taught you to take pride in your undeniable skills, to kill in self-defense or in defense of others, but never to commit murder.”

 

 _“But I can’t control it now!”_ Ashley wailed desperately.

 

“Is it that you can’t control it now, or is it that you are afraid of it now because it has a face?” Cassie countered gently.

 

Desperation gave way to anger again. _“What are you talking about?”_ Ashley snarled, straining against her bonds.

 

“The _Monster_ has a face now, doesn’t it?” Cassie said, gently brushing the girl’s sweat-damp hair from her face. “Before, Ashley with a gun in her hand … the girl with the deadly shot and the lightening-fast reflexes … well that was just Ashley Magnus doing what she did best—kicking ass and taking names! You embraced that side of yourself—that _killer instinct_ —and made no apologies for it; so why make apologies now?” Again, Ashley whimpered softly as more tears fell. “But now when your killer instinct manifests itself, it has a face that’s different from _Ashley’s_ —it has fangs and claws and red eyes and can teleport. And you’ve called it _Monster_.”

 

Cassie reached deep inside and caught hold of that golden thread connecting her to the other girl, and as she telepathically invoked the personality’s name, she drew it forth.

 

Ashley shrieked and changed into her vampire morph, red eyes burning as she strained against her shackles.

 

Cassie smiled. “Now speak to me, Ashley,” she said as she continued to stroke the girl’s hair. “No apologies, now. Just look at yourself … embrace yourself. There is no Monster; there is only you, _Ashley_ , only you.”

 

Again, the girl began to cry, but she remained in her vampire morph.

 

 _‘I can’t control her,’_ Ashley said fearfully.

 

 _‘Oh ... I wouldn’t say that.’_ Cassandra chuckled looking down into her red eyes. _‘You’re doing a fine job so far. After all, you haven’t torn out my neck yet, despite the fact you can do it in one lunge.’_

 

_‘You’re controlling—’_

 

 _‘No.’_ Cassie stopped her protest cold. _‘Look within, Ashley; I’m_ not _controlling you.’_

 

 _‘I don’t understand,’_ the other girl said in confusion after a few introspective moments.

 

_‘I’m not controlling you—we’re merely speaking telepathically.’_

 

_‘What?’_

 

Cassie laughed. _‘Haven’t you figured it out yet? It’s simple—in your Human morph, your primary communication modality is verbal, but in your Vampire morph, it’s telepathic. That’s all,’_ she said. _‘And once you’ve fully sorted through this ‘she’ versus ‘me’_ crap _the Cabal created in your head, I dare say you’ll probably be able to communicate in both modalities in either morph—I don’t see any inherent reason you shouldn’t be able to.’_

 

 _‘But I don’t want to be a Vampire ... to have a Vampire morph!’_ Ashley cried. _‘Mom says the vampire traits should go away once she purges the Source Blood from my system.’_

 

 _‘And do you think all these abilities will just ... go away once she does that?’_ Cassie asked pointedly. _‘Yes, some of those abilities are Source Blood induced, but I’m willing to bet that a lot more of them are genetic—far more than you’re probably expecting.’_

 

Ashley screamed her fear and pain and anger at the universe before morphing back to her human self. As the other girl sobbed brokenly, Cassie drew her into her arms again as best she could, simply stroking her hair and holding her close until she cried herself out.

 

“It’ll be all right,” Cassie soothed. “I can’t promise that it will ever be the _same_ again, but I promise that everything will be all right eventually.”

 

“So, you can see the future too?” Ashley rasped; a small sliver of humour showed through her tears.

 

Cassie chuckled. “Nah ... much as I’d like to, I don’t think I’d like the brain-eating tumours that come with that super power,” she quipped and Ashley goggled at her. “But I do think that with me helping over the next couple of months, you can definitely learn to control whatever bits of _Darth Ashley_ are left behind after your mother purges most of the unadulterated Source Blood from your body.”

 

Ashley stared at her in shock. “What about you?” she demanded. “Don’t you have a _life_ wherever it is you come from?”

 

 “Nah!” she said giggling again and Ashley gave her a dubious look. “The reason my mothers and I came here was to scout the New City University Medical School,” she explained. “Anyway, your mother plans to try and persuade me to stay—not only for your sake, but for the sake of the other telepaths in the Sanctuary Network—she wants me to help train them to shield their minds the way I do. So, since I’ve already got a scholarship to NCU lined up, I figure I’ll make it easy on her and _ask_ to stay.”

 

_“Huh?”_

 

“Telepath, remember?” Cassandra said with a wide grin as she tapped her forehead. Lifting her gaze to the room’s camera, she added, “Besides, your _mother_ thinks very loudly!”

 

#

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for taking so long to get back to this, but sometimes real life intrudes in the worst way possible. I'm still committed to finishing my stories, slowly but surely. So, for anyone still reading, enjoy this next chapter!

_“Cheeky monkey.”_

 

Helen shook her head and chuckled as she reluctantly turned off the monitor to give the two young women some privacy. She was still shocked by the young extra-terrestrial’s ability to read her without needing Helen to be in her line of sight—as was the case with Earth-born telepaths—but Helen knew that Ashley was in good hands with Cassandra Fraiser ... of that she was _completely_ sure now.

 

Helen had been about to go to Ashley when her distress began, but Cassandra’s sudden appearance near the corridor in that section of the SHU had stopped her. She’d disabled the electronic lock on Ashley’s door and waited anxiously to see what would happen. The young woman hadn’t disappointed her, either in terms of her psychological assessment of Ashley’s emotional state, or her deep, genuine compassion.  She didn’t know what had passed between them during that intense telepathic exchange, but Helen instinctively trusted Cassandra and knew that the girl would be good for her daughter.

 

Big Guy snorted in amusement. “I’m not surprised—you’ve always had … uh, uh … an affinity for … uh … _impertinent primates_ of all kinds,” he teased.

 

She looked up into the dark, twinkling eyes of her hirsute friend and couldn’t help but laugh out loud—great, big belly laughs that she couldn’t control. And it felt _good_ after so many months of sorrow.

 

As she happily returned her attention to the analysis of the data she’d collected so far on the effect of Tretonin on Source Blood-altered tissue samples, her old friend bent to gently drop a kiss on the crown of her head before letting himself out. A being of few words and fewer gestures, Helen savoured the feeling of love and hope he has left her with.

 

Her computer beeped, indicating that the comparison between Ashley’s and Nikola’s tissues was complete. She studied it closely, trying to interpret what the data meant for her daughter in context with the other tissue analyses she has been conducting. She has not only used samples from Ashley and Samantha, but she was also cross-checking samples from herself and frozen samples she has collected over the last century from her compatriots in the Five, as well as samples collected from Cassandra, Teal’c, and most surprisingly, Vala and General O’Neill, who had also been infected with Goa’uld or Tok’ra symbiotes.

 

Nikola’s triple helix chromosomes are stable, unravelling and reforming with machine precision as genes are expressed or shut down. Ashley’s genetic landscape, however, is unstable and constantly in flux, with microsites on her chromosome structure unravelling and reforming seemingly at random.

 

This concerned Helen; her daughter won’t be able sustain the damage it’s doing to her genome for much longer, and from what Cassandra had observed in the other Cabal test subject, it sounded like the other super soldiers had been even more genetically unstable. That was understandable since they had simply been _“blank copies”_ whose genomes had been overlaid by _Ashley’s_ Source Blood-induced genetic pattern. And Helen suspected that only the fact that Ashley was the child of two Source Blood-changed Abnormals had offered her daughter a measure of _epigenetic_ protection the _“blanks”_ had not possessed.

 

However, unlike Nikola, whose cell nuclei had the vampiric triple helix chromosomes in every cell, since he was descended from _Sanguine vampyris_ , Ashley seemed to be a genetic mosaic of both natural double helices in some cells and the artificial vampiric triple helices in others—and to an extent, so was Samantha, although her enhanced system was making short work of returning her genome to a more _Human_ norm.

 

In fact, her immune response was mounting an aggressive three-pronged attack, the first being the destruction of the invading Source Blood cells mediated by a globular protein with naquada-bound residues to block the parasite blood’s membrane channels. Once the Source Blood cells were studded by these alien proteins, Samantha’s enhanced T-cells mounted a targeted attack on them, engulfing them and breaking them down.

 

In the second prong of her immune response, the interloping third strand of DNA, which had begun to transform some of Samantha’s cells, was being unravelled from her native double helix by a strange Tretonin-enhanced DNA helicase produced by those genes her Tok’ra symbiote had left behind when it died. Finally, the vampiric DNA strand was then quickly denatured by a naquada-bound enzyme, leaving her original genes, for the most part, unchanged while other Tretonin-bound proteins helped to efficiently rid her cells of any wastes.

 

Now, all Helen needed to do was replicate this system in Ashley and she’d already made a stab at using a limited transfusion of a small amount of Samantha’s blood to combat the infection. But although it did help make some inroads, without the alien genetics to sustain the levels of enzymes and other proteins, the Source Blood in Ashley’s system had over-powered the changes. Searching for a retrovirus capable of withstanding the Source Blood and delivering the alien DNA to Ashley was proving frustrating, so Helen had also begun artificially producing the alien helicase, but she was having trouble producing the enzymes as well as the globular proteins—and not to mention those rapacious T-cells.

 

To a certain extent, the energy weapon Nikola had designed to kill Ashley and the super-Abnormals also unravelled the triple helix on a gross scale, but doing so damaged the entire chromosome structure, leaving the natural double helix unable to reform.

 

The lab’s extension rang. Helen looked up from her analysis, scrubbing her face tiredly with one hand as she reached for it with the other.

 

Before she could say “hello” a familiar, accented voice sang into her ear. “Helen, _udel’lehwa_ _okeyotanayo_ … I come, my lovely sister—I shall be there soon.”

 

 _“Akande,”_ Helen cried softly, tears welling up as—even through the phone—that voice wrapped her in a cloak of warmth and gave her permission to give into her emotions.

 

“I am sorry I didn’t get your message earlier. Asolwe began her walkabout unexpectedly and it was necessary for me to accompany her.”

 

“I know, Pili informed me—everything went well?” Helen asked anxiously, drying her eyes.

 

“Extremely well, dearest,” Akande replied and Helen exhaled in relief. “Pili was kind enough to spare your Dr. Nasrin Haddad and some strapping young guards to accompany us—she was marvelous support to Asolwe and her new little flower bud, Alehme. Both are back in the Cairo Sanctuary and thriving under Dr. Keyende’s watchful eye; he will take good care of them until Asolwe is strong enough to return to our Enclave. I am bringing Nasrin with me to support you; we are on our way to the airport—heading to London. She is rather like you, my dear—rock steady under pressure, even with two strong telempaths in her head. I believe she will be of help to you and to our Ashley, both as a doctor and an empath.”

 

“I didn’t know she was an empath,” Helen said in confusion, trying to focus now on what she remembered regarding the doctor, who had recently joined the Cairo team—recruited from a UN-run hospital in Kenya after she’d run afoul of an Abnormal bag and capture team for a young and newly-metamorphosed Gorgon.

 

“I am quite unsure of _what_ she is!” Akande laughed her big, booming laugh. “Before this, I would have judged her to be a simple Human—but then, fifty years ago, I had judged _you_ to be a simple Human, my sister.”

 

“Touché, dearest,” Helen chuckled, bringing up her email and firing off a brief message.

 

“Perhaps together we can discover what she is—” A quiet voice hissed something unintelligible in the background. Akande laughed again. “My dear, _dear_ Dr. Nasrin objects to being spoken of as if she was not present.”

 

“My apologies, Dr. Haddad,” Helen said formally.

 

“Apology accepted, Dr. Magnus,” came a deep, accented contralto tinged with humour and resignation. “I am well-used to our Madame Akande’s enthusiasms by now.”

 

Helen laughed. “The only way to deal with our Madame Akande—you’re certainly smarter than me, Dr. Haddad; I learned the _hard_ way to pick my battles, when it comes to her … _enthusiasms_. I have so _much_ to tell you Akande, and I desperately need your advice, especially about tending an unexpected flower budding in my garden.” There was a sharp gasp, which told her that her friend understood the message she was trying to convey. "In any case, I’ve just messaged my pilot, Paul Vitola; he will pick you up at Heathrow and convey you here on my private jet. You will have a short stopover in New York for refueling for the flight west to Old City.”

 

“Thank you, Helen; I shall see you soon, _tanayo_.”

 

Helen felt the weight on her heart ease just a little. She closed her eyes against the tears welling up again. “I’ll see you soon, Akande _tanayo_ ,” she husked gratefully, and drew a shuddering breath as the line disconnected; it will be so good to have someone to lean on, even for a little while. With her emotions as ragged as they were, she’d even considered finding John and Nikola, and asking them to return. But even if she could find them, John with his homicidal tendencies, and Nikola with his rampant megalomania—and, not to mention, both their professed love for her—were things she didn’t need to deal with right now.

 

Hanging up the phone, Helen gathered her wits again and returned to her study of the tissue samples. Teal’c had little to no native immune response not mediated by Tretonin, but there were hints of similar enhancements in O’Neill and Vala’s samples, although only Samantha showed active enhancement to such an extreme.

 

It couldn’t be time spent with the symbiote—she’d spent only about 48 hours as a host, while O’Neill had been infested for days and Vala over a decade. However, Janet postulated that since Samantha had been the only one to have a symbiote not only die in her, but also consciously pass on her memories and the extensive genetic enhancements, this had made all the difference.

 

 _Samantha_ was the key to Ashley’s recovery ... Ashley’s _survival_. Helen had known that from the start, but now she had irrefutable proof!

 

#


End file.
